


The Magician

by Nagem



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Zombie Apocalypse, M/M, Magical Realism, Negan makes bad decisions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-22
Updated: 2018-01-19
Packaged: 2019-02-05 07:26:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 56,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12789681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nagem/pseuds/Nagem
Summary: While taking his kids to the park, Rick stumbles into a magic act at a birthday party.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Initially inspired by [Trapdoor](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6CWa6L8zofQ) by twenty-one pilots. Whenever I got stuck, I listened to [Loveology](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_MVJGPXo0io) by Regina Spektor. I listened to it a lot.

Judith screamed and tugged on Rick's hand. He tightened his grip, shaking his head. "We're almost there. See? No need for that." He pointed with his other hand, toward the playground. "Look, Judy!"

She squealed, jumping up and down. Rick sighed and rubbed his face. Behind him, Rick heard Carl laugh. He narrowed his eyes and turned, seeing Carl with his nose in his phone. "Put that away. It's family time."

Carl shoved his phone in his pocket and crossed his arms over his chest. To Rick's surprise, he didn't shoot back a comment. Rick turned back around and lead Judith through the picnic area, the swing sets in sight, and Judith's eyes grew wide.

There seemed to be a birthday party. Around one of the picnic tables, there was a crowd of people, and bags and plates of food laid on the surface. Decorations were taped to the table, blowing in the slight breeze. That wasn't what caught Rick's attention. It was the audience of children and adults near the park's small stage, not far from the picnic area. The stage was decorated as well, dark curtains, feathers, and a "happy birthday" banner across the stage's edge. Standing in the center, with arms outstretched, was a magician.

The man had a cape and a mask, but that was the extent of his magician persona. There was no wand or cane or any sort of stick in his hands, and no hat on top of his head. He was wearing ordinary street clothes beneath his cape. If Rick was a betting man, he'd say the guy was probably the cheapest they could find. Poor kid.

"Ladies and gentlemen, children of all ages—"

"—Dad, Judith's about to tear your arm off." Rick turned his head, glancing at Carl, and then at Judith, who was yanking on his arm, trying to pull him to the playground.

"I need a volunteer from the audience!"

Rick let go of Judith's hand and rolled his shoulder. "You take her. I'll be over in a minute."

Carl gave him a look but held Judith's hand all the same. He took off with a bit of a run, Judith the very image of pure joy as she ran alongside her brother. Rick watched them for a moment before spinning on his heel, taking a few steps closer to the crowd. He stayed near the back, not wanting to mix in with the actual party. He doubted that he'd be called out for slipping in, though.

"No one? No one wants to be the brave little volunteer?" The magician tossed his arm out, cape moving, and gestured to the crowd. He wiggled his fingers. When he received only blank stares and hushed whispers, he frowned, arms dropping. "I'm gonna get someone up on this stage." He walked to the edge, narrowing his eyes behind the mask. His hands on his knees, he leaned forward. "Now, let me see here…"

Rick smiled, lifting a hand to rub his face and hide it. He didn't pity the kid who was dragged on—

"You back there, with the sky-blue eyes!" Rick froze, almost on instinct, and lowered his hand. He looked up, eyes widening, and caught the gaze of the magician. Dark eyes met his, and he smiled, laughing. He straightened up and threw his arms out again. "Yes, I'm talking to you. Get up here on stage and I'll do a trick or two." Rick's cheeks burned as he watched the man wink.

He rubbed the back of his neck and hung his head. Rick reluctantly made his way through the audience, some kids clapping and cheering as he passed. This was embarrassing. Why did he get picked, and why did he think hanging around was a good idea? Rick walked around the stage and climbed up the stairs. He stood next to the magician, setting his hands on his hips.

"Hi," he said, voice low and a bit gravelly. "What's my lovely volunteer's name?"

"Rick. And you are?"

"The Fabulous Mr. Peacock." He winked again, smiled, and turned back to the crowd. "Before your very eyes, I'm going to make Rick here"—he pointed—"disappear!" The kids clapped and shouted some more. Rick guessed the man could do anything and they would go crazy.

Peacock faced Rick and walked toward him. "Drag that curtain over here, gorgeous," he mumbled. "When I start, just, uh, step behind the curtain and stand on that X down there."

Rick cocked an eyebrow and glanced down, trying not to make it obvious. "A trapdoor? Kinda cheap." He took a step back.

"Just you wait, Rick." Peacock faced the audience again, leaving Rick to drag the curtain to the center of the stage, in front of the X on the floor. "Are you kiddos ready?!"

Rick stood in front of the curtain, fingers flexing at his sides. He looked ahead, narrowing his eyes against the sun. Carl and Judith were running around on the playground. It didn't look like they knew their father was about to make a fool of himself on stage. He blinked and stared at Peacock, just as the kids gave another roar of laughter and cheers.

Peacock did a spin and moved toward Rick. He leaned in, grinning. "Your kids out there, Rick?" he whispered.

"Kids?"

"Well, I'm assuming you have kids. Why else would you be at this fucking party?"

Rick shook his head and looked ahead. "They're… on the playground."

Peacock laughed, hand to his chest. "Did you tell them bye? Say you loved 'em?" Rick furrowed his brow and stared. Peacock shook his head in an exaggerated gesture, mocking disappointment. "That's a damn shame. Let's hope I don't fuck up."

Rick screwed up his face and stepped forward. "Excuse me—"

Peacock faced the crowd and laughed. "Everybody say bye to Rick!" He threw his arm back and shoved on Rick's chest, making him stumble through the curtain.

Rick managed to catch himself before he fell on his ass. He cursed underneath his breath and looked down, staring at the X. Was it supposed to spring open, or? The cheering and giggling seemed to fade from his hearing. Everything was fuzzy, muffled, and Rick watched as the black X spun, once, twice, three times, and then grew. Rick widened his eyes and stepped back. It didn't matter; the X was getting bigger and the floor was disappearing, and Rick dropped.

He wasn't under the stage. Rick didn't think he was even standing on anything. He kicked out his legs, but nothing solid was in his proximity. It was cold and a bit claustrophobic, and Rick wrapped his arms around himself. It was dark, and he couldn't see or hear fucking anything, and this was the worst trick in the whole goddamn world.

Rick breathed in. He felt his chest tighten. Where the hell was he? He was panicking, and his eyes stung. Was it the lack of air? Was he lacking air? What the fuck.

Suddenly, he propelled forward. Rick gasped as a bright light greeted him. He landed on something solid but not very sturdy, and he slipped, reaching and feeling the rough bark of a tree. Tree? Goddamn, he was back in the park, up in a tree. Rick clung to the trunk and tried to adjust his position on the limb. Leaves shook and a few branches snapped off.

"Look! There he is!"

Rick made sure he had a good grip on the tree before he stretched out an arm, pushing back branches and leaves and squinting at the party ahead. He had managed to get in a tree near the picnic area. The parents who were sitting at the table even seemed surprised to see him there.

The kids "oohed" and "aahed", and Rick gave a small wave. He looked at the stage, where Peacock stood with a shit-eating grin on his face. The curtain was pushed aside, and the floor seemed very intact.

Rick was still a bit shaky as he carefully climbed down. Once on solid, solid ground—thank God—Peacock had made his way over to Rick, the smile still on his face. "Pretty cheap trick, huh?"

"What the hell did you do to me?" Rick hissed, starting toward him. He kept his voice low, knowing there were a few pairs of lingering eyes.

Peacock paused, brows furrowed and a small frown on his face. He had one of his hands up, hovering awkwardly like he was about to touch Rick. Slowly, he lowered it. "I don't know what the hell you're talking about. You guessed it. Fucking trapdoor." Peacock stepped back, distancing himself. Soon, the smile and wink returned. "See ya later, Rick. Thanks for volunteering." Peacock twisted around, cape obnoxiously whipping along with him.

Rick stood there, getting that tight feeling in his chest again. He looked away, down, and wiped his palms on his jeans. He turned away and went to the playground.

They stayed at the park for twenty more minutes. Judith begged for a milkshake, and Rick wasn't about to tell her no. As they left, they went through the back gates. The dairy bar was a short walk away. It was still a nice day, all things considering.

"Shitty magician, right?"

Rick paused, Carl and Judith leaving him behind. He looked over his shoulder, catching the attention of a man leaning against the fence. Despite the heat, he had on a leather jacket. Sunglasses were perched on his face, and an unlit cigarette was behind his ear. The man's voice was familiar. Rick blinked once, twice. "You have kids at the party?"

"Nope."

Silence lingered between them: Rick not knowing how to respond and the man not caring to do anything but smile. Rick gestured. "Can't smoke that in the park."

"I'm not gonna fucking smoke it. I care about our youth." The man scoffed and slipped his sunglasses off, resting them on the top of his head. Dark, tired eyes met his, and Rick smiled.

"Do you always hang out after your shows, seeing if people really do think you're as shitty as you are?"

Peacock laughed. "Rick! That is way too hurtful. Apologize."

"No."

"Dad, come on!" Carl shouted from down the road. He held Judith's hand, keeping her close as she tried to run off.

"Give me a minute!" Rick yelled back. He looked at Peacock, who seemed endlessly entertained. "Tell me how you did that trick. I don't think it was just a trapdoor."

He raised an eyebrow. "Really, now? And what do you think it was?"

Rick hesitated. "I… I don't know. It didn't feel… right, like anything I've ever felt."

Peacock pushed off the fence, straightening up. His sunglasses slid from his head, going down his face, and he lifted to catch them. They were properly back on his face, a smile on his lips. "A good magician never reveals his secrets, Ricky boy. Now skedaddle. Your kids are waiting." He wet his lips and shrugged loosely. "Call me sometime. Or text. Whatever you fucking want. I'm flexible." If he didn't have sunglasses on, Rick figured he would have winked.

Rick shook his head. "I don't have your number."

"Sure you do," Peacock said, walking backward. "You have a fucking pocket on that shirt, don't you?" He laughed and turned away, taking the cigarette from behind his ear.

Rick turned away, too, and walked out of the park, setting a quick pace as he knew Carl and Judith were waiting. He lifted his hand and tucked fingers into his shirt pocket. Rick felt a slip of paper, and as he took it out and glanced, he found there was a phone number written down. He pushed it back in the pocket and focused on breathing.

Judith latched onto him when he caught up. They fell back into their walk, and Carl folded his arms over his chest. "Who was that guy?"

"I don't know," Rick answered, the most honest thing he had ever said. "He needed directions or something. Wasn't important."

Carl was quiet for a moment, probably weighing the pros and cons to poking more into Rick's story. Finally, "Judith told me she wanted a strawberry milkshake."

"I think that could work."


	2. Chapter 2

5:37 PM

A hat.

5:38 PM

Who the fuck is this?

5:42 PM

Rick. I think you gave me your number. You should get a hat and pull rabbits out of it.

5:45 PM

I don't wear hats, Ricky dicky.

5:48 PM

Just a suggestion.

6:02 PM

I'll put it in my fucking suggestion box.

*

12:08 AM

You never told me your name.

12:08 AM

Just the Fabulous Mr. Peacock.

12:23 AM

Call me Peacock. Go to bed.

2:43 AM

I want to know how you did that trick.

2:44 AM

It's been bugging me all day.

2:44 AM

You can't have done what you done but you did. I didn't just fall through the stage.

2:45 AM

There was something else.

2:52 AM

Christ's sake I was up in a fucking tree that I don't remember climbing

3:00 AM

You don't remember climbing it because you didn't climb it. You fell.

7:16 AM

Sorry about the late-night texts. I wasn't in a good headspace last night. Scared, had trouble sleeping.

7:18 AM

Good morning.

4:21 PM

Don't fucking sleep with socks on.

*

3:02 PM

What happened to all your other volunteers? I mean I'm guessin you had volunteers and assistants being a magician and all. You make them piss their pants too?

3:25 PM

Hey now, if you pissed your pants I would have remembered. And the other shit, that's complicated.

3:26 PM

Don't wanna discuss it over text

3:26 PM

You gotta buy me dinner first

4:22 PM

Why do I have a feeling this isn't going to lead anywhere? Do anything? Besides give me a massive headache.

4:27 PM

Buy me dinner first

5:09 PM

Already ate.

5:16 PM

Good, have dinner with me.

5:30 PM

What's your name?

8:37 PM

Peacock

8:42 PM

Sorry about dinner.

*

Rick pressed the side of his hand to the book, stopping the pages from flipping. The breeze was nice, but it was a pain when he wasn't finished with the page yet. When the breeze seemed to settle, Rick slid to the end of his seat, resting his elbow on the edge of the book. He lifted his head and looked ahead, watching Judith go down a slide. She seemed to be having fun, despite being by herself. Carl was in school, and Judith asked to go to the park again. She didn't want to wait. On a weekday afternoon, the park wasn't busy at all. It was easy to watch Judith when there wasn't a handful of screaming kids running around.

"Mind if I pop a squat?" Rick lifted his head, raising his brows. Peacock stood next to the picnic table, leaning to the side with a plastic bag in his hand. Rick squinted. "Oh, I'm sorry. Am I interrupting? Want me to fucking leave?"

Rick shook his head and folded the corner of the page, thumb running along the crease. "No, no, you're not interrupting. No." He wet his lips and looked ahead, spotting Judith on a swing. Rick looked back over. "Just sit a bit off-center. I'm watching my daughter." He put his book in the bag next to him.

Peacock hummed and sat down, setting the plastic bag in front of him. He looked over his shoulder, staring for a while. Turning back to Rick, he nodded. "Curly brown hair with that cute nose?"

"Yeah."

He smiled. "Awesome." Peacock untied the bag and pulled out a bundle of aluminum foil. He set it in front of Rick and dug out an identical one for himself.

"What are you doing?"

Peacock set a can of pop down for the both of them. He gave Rick a look and gestured dramatically. "We're having a fucking meal together. Not exactly buying me dinner"—Rick shook his head—"but I can cook a great burger so lunch is on me." He held up a finger. "Just this once."

Rick sighed but he felt the smile on his face. He picked up the foil-wrapped burger and peeled it back. It was still warm. Rick glanced at Peacock. "How'd you know I… wasn't a vegetarian, or something?"

"Balance of fucking probability. And you look like a man who enjoys his meat."

They exchanged a look. Rick continued to unwrap his burger. "Is this gluten-free?" he asked, just the slightest hint of a tease in his voice.

"Fuck no." Peacock paused in his foil ripping. He looked at Rick. "You got one of those fucking allergy things?"

Rick held his burger and took a bite. He chewed carefully, and yeah, this was a good burger. Once he swallowed, he shook his head again. "No. My brother does. Celiac. Well, it's not exactly an allergy." He looked down at his burger. "Probably don't want to hear about that."

"That sounds fucking awful."

He looked over, Peacock seeming to be sincere as he chewed on his burger. Rick glanced ahead, catching Judith looking his way. "It was awful," he said. Judith waved at him from across the park. Rick did the same. He felt Peacock's eyes on him, but he didn't say anything.

"Tell me about it."

Rick looked back at Peacock, brows raised. "What?"

"Tell me about your brother's fucking Celiac disease."

"You're not serious."

"Uh, I fucking am. You can't just say it was awful, and leave it at that."

Rick laughed. "Because it was awful!" He shook his head. "He was twelve, I think. We just thought it was stomach aches. Very frequent stomach aches. Sometimes, he was in so much pain." Rick frowned. "Like I said, he was young so my parents thought he was faking, but." He glanced at Peacock. "Obviously, they took him to the doctor. Found out his own immune system was screwing with him, so. No more gluten."

"Shit. That fucking sucks." Rick looked over at him, the sympathy etched on his face genuine. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine. He's okay now."

Peacock nodded and looked off to the side.

Rick set his burger on the foil, reaching to crack open his pop. He studied Peacock, picking up the can. "You always live in Kentucky?"

Peacock smiled. "Why do you ask? Do I not look like a blue-blooded Kentuckian?"

As he took a drink, Rick narrowed his eyes.

"Shit, you guys really get your fucking panties in a twist with the incest jokes, don't you?" Peacock shook his head. "I'm from Virginia. My wife was from Kentucky. She was up in Virginia on vacation or some shit. Hell, I can't fucking remember now. That's how we met." He licked a spot of ketchup off his thumb. "Fell in love and moved on down to the good ol' bluegrass."

Rick moved the bun around on his burger, trying to line it up with his bites. He crossed his ankles underneath the table. "Was?" he asked quietly. Rick glanced at Peacock.

"Yeah. Was."

"I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault, Rick."

For the remainder of their meal, they ate in silence. Rick turned the aluminum foil into a ball, rolling it underneath his palm. He tossed it into the plastic bag, then. "Did your wife call you Peacock?"

"Sometimes."

"Did your marriage certificate have Peacock on it?" he teased.

"Rick, I sent you through a fucking portal. You don't think I can make something fucking look like something else?" he shot back, shaking his head. "My marriage certificate had my name on it."

"So, I wasn't under the stage." Rick shut his eyes. He sighed. "A portal. I don't think I like portals." He opened his eyes and looked ahead. Judith was running toward them, a smile on her face.

"I'd be fucking surprised if you did, Rick." There were fingertips against his knuckles, but when Rick looked down, there was nothing there. Peacock was shoving the rest of their trash into the plastic bag.

Judith stopped next to Rick, breathing heavily. "Daddy, I'm tired." She leaned her head against his arm.

"Did you have a fun time playing, though?" he asked, picking Judith up and setting her in his lap.

"Yes," she said. Judith looked across the table at Peacock. "Hi."

"Hiya." He smiled. "What's your name?"

Judith glanced at Rick, eyes wide, and he nodded. He rubbed her arm. "Judith," she said quietly.

"Well, that is a beautiful name. It's nice to meet you, Judith. You can call me Peacock."

"Peacock," she repeated slowly.

"That's right." He caught Rick's eye, smile growing wider, and he adjusted in his seat. "Hey, Judith, do you want to see a trick?"

Rick pressed his lips together, and Judith squirmed. She clapped, smiling. "Yes! I want to see a trick."

Peacock laughed and shoved the plastic bag aside. "Alright, cool." He tapped the tabletop for a moment and pointed at the bag next to Rick. "Hand that over, please." Judith moved to grab the bag, but Rick was the one to set it in front of Peacock.

"Needs to be completely empty for this. Do you mind?" He raised a brow, looking at Rick.

"Yeah, go ahead, I guess." Rick wrapped an arm around Judith's waist.

Peacock took out a couple water bottles, a change of clothes for Judith,  _Gone with the Wind_ —he gave Rick a look—the few dollars Rick shoved in there, and car keys. He placed the items in a small pile off to the side and leaned in toward Judith. "I need you to run out there and grab me one of those flower things that you blow and they go everywhere, yeah? I think I saw one over there." Peacock pointed to the right. Judith quickly slid off Rick's lap and hurried off to fetch a dandelion.

Rick furrowed his brow. "What are you planning? Another portal?"

Peacock shrugged. "It's not a hat."

Rick narrowed his eyes.

Judith came back, carrying the biggest dandelion she could find. She stood next to Peacock and held it high. Peacock took it and smiled. "Thank you, little lady. Go sit on your daddy's lap, and watch this." Judith widened her eyes and went around the table, scrambling to get back on Rick's lap. Rick wrapped his arms around her again.

Peacock held the dandelion between his index finger and his thumb. "As you can see, the bag is empty. Judith, will you check to see if the bag is, indeed, empty?"

Judith stretched up, leaning over the table and sticking her hand into the bag. Rick tipped his head to the side and stared at Peacock. His attention was focused on Judith, though. After Judith finished her inspection, she sat back and nodded. "Empty!"

"Awesome. I'm going to put this dandelion in the bag. It'll be the only thing in there. Right?"

"Right!"

Peacock dropped the dandelion in the bag and zipped it closed. He pulled it to his chest, arms around it. His chin rested on the top, eyes narrowing as he looked between Judith and Rick. "Now we wait."

Judith held her hands to her mouth. "Wait for what?"

"For the trick!" Peacock smiled. "What's your favorite color, Judith?"

"Blue!"

Peacock hummed. "Mine's red. Do you have a favorite animal? What am I saying, of course you do." He slowly shut his eyes, shoulders lowering.

"I like elephants."

"I think tigers are cool." Peacock, eyes still shut, smiled softly. "Do you have any pets, Judith?"

"No."

Peacock opened his eyes and looked over at Rick. "Did you hear that, Rick? Judith doesn't have any pets."

"I heard." Rick frowned. "Please tell me you're not—"

"—it's time!" Peacock straightened up, glancing at Judith. "Are you ready? Really, really ready?"

Judith bounced on Rick's knees, hands smacking the table top. "Yes, yes, yes."

Peacock carefully slid the bag over to her. "You open it, kiddo. Whatever's inside is yours."

She didn't waste any time. Rick helped her stand on her knees, as she leaned over the table. Judith opened the bag, and while he couldn't see what was inside, Judith's gasp told him everything.

"A bunny!" Judith pulled out a white rabbit, holding it in the crook of her elbow. The rabbit looked content, its head tipped back and nostrils moving as it smelled the outside air. Rick looked at Peacock and started to shake his head. Peacock gave a small pout.

"Daddy, look!" Judith twisted in his lap, showing Rick the rabbit. "We have a bunny now! I'm going to call her Bonnie." She petted Bonnie's ears, the rabbit closing its eyes.

"She's very cute."

Judith got off Rick's lap, Bonnie still in her arms. "I wanna go home. Thank you, Peacock!"

Rick tipped the bag, peeking inside. It was empty, the dandelion gone. He glanced at Peacock and sighed. "That was a nice trick," he said quietly. Rick began to put everything back into the bag. He kept his car keys out and zipped it shut.

"Thanks. Not so shitty when it brings a smile to your girl's face, huh?"

He stood up, slipping the bag over his shoulder. "Not so shitty when I'm not shoved into complete darkness," he corrected. "Oh, and then fall into a tree." Rick looked over at Judith, as she rocked Bonnie in her arms. He turned back to Peacock. "And... thanks for the food. It was really good."

Peacock stood up, giving a small shrug. "Of course it was," he said. Rick studied him, taking in his slouched shoulders and lined face. He hadn't noticed before, but Peacock looked tired.

"Get any sleep last night?"

"Yeah. Fucking slept like a rock." Peacock grabbed the plastic bag, tying it closed. "I'll see you around, Rick."

He took a step back and lightly touched Judith's head, pushing her toward the exit. "Probably."

Hours later, after he had taken Judith and Bonnie to various pet stores to get everything they needed, Rick picked Carl up from school. He sat in the passenger seat and glanced back at Judith, then did a double take. Rick nodded. "Yeah, we have a rabbit now." Carl looked him, raising his brows. Rick waved a hand. "Don't ask. A friend gave her to me. Couldn't say no."


	3. Chapter 3

5:37 PM

Ice cream

5:48 PM

Give me a few

*

They met at the dairy bar. After getting their respective bowls of ice cream, Rick and Peacock sat at one of the tables outside. There was another couple there, sharing a milkshake. Rick moved the chocolate chips around in his bowl. He glanced at Peacock. "Why the invitation?"

Peacock shrugged. "Haven't seen each other in a while. I missed ya." He stuck a spoonful of strawberry ice cream in his mouth, smiling.

"A week or two," Rick murmured. He turned the spoon between his fingers. Rick couldn't tell if it was the absence, but Peacock looked more worn out than usual. Still, with the airy relaxed posture he usually held, Rick could detect a bit of stiffness in his shoulders. Or Rick was seeing things, which was entirely possible.

"Too damn long." Peacock twirled his spoon. "Your daughter still fawning over that fucking rabbit?"

Rick smiled. "Yeah, she carries that thing everywhere. Carl's even getting used to Bonnie. I think he likes her, too." He furrowed his brow. "I… I don't know how you did it."

Peacock shrugged. He kept his spoon in his mouth and turned in his seat, looking at the couple just a few tables away. Peacock slipped the spoon out of his mouth as he faced forward. "I'll tell ya later. You won't like the fucking answer, though."

They waited for the couple to leave and ate their ice cream. When they passed their table and made for their car, Rick smirked. "Can't control minds?"

"That is fucking rude, Rick." Peacock pointed the spoon at him. "Now, onto your answer. I don't really know how I fucking did it either. I just…" Peacock waved his spoon. "Think really hard, and shit happens."

Rick stirred. "How long have you been able to do… magic?"

Peacock smiled. "Ever since I was a kid. Fucking neat, huh?"

"Have you met anyone else who's like you?"

"Yeah, at fucking Hogwarts." Rick narrowed his eyes. Peacock laughed. "I'm serious. I'm a Slytherin."

"Me too."

"Bull-fucking-shit, Rick."

"Be a little more serious."

Peacock leaned back in his chair, sighing. He scratched the nape of his neck. "Fuck," he breathed out. "No, I haven't met anyone else. If I have, they didn't fucking tell me. And it's not like I go fucking around and tell everyone that I'm a goddamn warlock-y piece of shit."

Rick tipped his bowl, scraping the rest of his ice cream out. "Warlock."

"Sounds pretty fucking hot, right?"

He looked at him, smiling, too. "Yeah." Rick ate his spoonful and nodded toward him. "You had assistants, though? For your magic acts. They must have known about your warlockness."

Peacock took Rick's bowl of ice cream and slipped his inside it. He crossed his arms over his chest, legs stretching out. His foot touched Rick's, and Rick gave a small nudge back. "I just had one assistant. Her name was Lucille."

Rick studied him. "Your wife." Peacock closed his eyes. "How did she…?"

"It was a fucking accident." Peacock shook his head. He opened his eyes and stared at Rick. "Where's your kids' mom? I don't see a ring on that fucking finger."

"She died, too. There was a… a complication when she had our daughter." Rick frowned. "It was awful." Rick rubbed the bridge of his nose. "We grieved. It's been years. We're okay now."

"Does she know?" he asked quietly. "Your daughter."

"No. No… she doesn't know. She's too young, and I." Rick stopped, lowering his hand and frowning.

"I get it."

Rick met Peacock's eyes. "Why do the magician act if you don't have Lucille anymore?"

Peacock leaned forward, then, elbows on the table and fingers slipped together. He watched Rick. "I needed the fucking money."

"Didn't other people find out?"

"I can do this little fucking trick, believe it or not." Peacock lifted his hand, fingers wiggling. "Make them forget what they saw." He reached out, lightly touching Rick's cheek. "Make them forget the past five minutes, hour, day, hell, even years, if I wanted." Peacock slid his fingers up into Rick's hair. "Then they're none the wiser. They don't know me, and that's for the best."

Rick carefully breathed in, keeping his eyes on Peacock. "Lucille knew, though?"

"Yeah, she knew." Peacock tipped his head to the side. He skimmed his thumb along the edge of Rick's ear.

"And why do I still remember you?"

Peacock looked at him, giving him a smile, a slight confused expression. "I like you, Rick. Haven't I fucking said that yet?"

Rick started to shake his head, feeling the fingers in his hair tighten. "Not exactly."

"Now you fucking know." Peacock lowered his hand, palm resting against the table. He slowly grinned, drumming his fingers. "Stand up."

"What?"

"Stand up, come on." Peacock stood, stretching. He grabbed their bowls and went to drop them in the trash.

Rick stood, too, and set his hands on his hips. He rolled his shoulders. "What are we doing?" he asked.

Peacock walked over, slipping an arm around Rick's shoulders. "I'm showing you another trick. Well, a trick you've seen before."

"I don't think I like the sound of that," Rick said, giving a small smile. He sighed. "Is it another portal?"

Peacock chuckled. "You can read me like a fucking picture book, Rick." He glanced around, taking a few steps to walk toward the back of the building. Peacock tossed his arm aside, a large ripple tearing through the air in front of them. It was colorless, and Rick could see through it, see the lampposts across the street, the passing cars.

The arm around Rick's shoulders left, and Peacock spun Rick around, back to the portal and facing him. Peacock held his wrists, squeezing. "Do you trust me, Rick?"

Rick hesitated. He looked over his shoulder, at the swirling motion of the magic behind him. Rick turned to Peacock, starting to nod. "Yeah."

Peacock let go of Rick's wrists. "Good." He pressed his hand to Rick's chest, shoving him toward the portal.

Stumbling, Rick widened his eyes. "No fucking way," he said and reached out, grabbing Peacock's hands. Rick yanked him, walking backward, tightening his grip. "You're coming with me. Not that again."

Peacock smiled and allowed Rick to pull him with no resistance. "The darkness can be scary," he said, and they fell.

It was dark, much like the sensation Rick experienced before. He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, rubbing, rubbing, rubbing. Rick breathed in, chest hurting. "Oh my god," Rick said, voice sounding muffled and disconnected from his body. He lowered his hands and looked over, Peacock giving him a wide grin. "How can this not be tormenting you?"

Peacock moved, seeming to float in front of Rick. He took his hands in his and turned them, slow spins in the deafening darkness. "I'm used to it. Here it comes." Peacock winked, and almost instantly, Rick felt like he was slipping, falling through the… floor? Was there even a floor? Rick squeezed Peacock's fingers, closing his eyes and not letting go until he fell back on something soft.

He kept his eyes shut, waiting for his head to stop spinning, his stomach to stop churning, and his heart to stop racing. Rick wasn't holding Peacock's hands anymore. He opened his eyes and looked at the ceiling. This was… this was—Rick stretched out his arms. A bed. They were on a bed. Rick roughly swallowed and looked to the side, Peacock lying next to him. They stared, and Peacock smiled. "Hey."

Rick slowly sat up, holding a hand to his head. He sighed, hand dropping. "How long did it take us to get here?"

Peacock sat up, too, hands on his knees. "Less than thirty seconds."

"That didn't feel like thirty seconds."

" _Less_  than."

Rick looked around the bedroom, slowly narrowing his eyes when he took in the unfamiliar surroundings. "I don't know what I expected," he said. "But I didn't think we'd end up in your bedroom."

"Mm, yeah? It was the first fucking thing I thought of." Peacock leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He rubbed his face. "That shit takes a lot outta me. It always does." Peacock lowered his hands and hung his head. "It's getting worse."

Rick knitted his brow and looked at him. "Is that why you look," he stopped, pressing his lips together. He shook his head. "I don't mean it like—"

"—no, I fucking get it. And yes." Peacock straightened up, breathing in, breathing out. He studied Rick. "I didn't think I looked  _that_  fucking bad. Fuck you, Rick."

"It's not bad. Just… tired. You look like you need a nice long nap."

Peacock hummed, narrowing his eyes. "That's not as simple as it sounds," he murmured. He rubbed his thighs. "I don't know why I brought you here."

"Subconscious decision."

"Fuck you."

"I need to go back home," Rick said softly. He looked ahead, down at the bed. Rick touched the comforter, pinching the fabric.

"I get it."

Rick stared at Peacock, shaking his head. He reached out, gently resting a hand on the side of his neck. Peacock swallowed. "I'll get you back."

"Can you do that?" Rick pulled his hand back.

"Hell fucking yeah."

"Is that a good idea?"

"Ha, hell no. I'm seeing stars. Stand up."

Rick stood and moved in the center of the room, Peacock standing in front of him. Steps away from each other, Rick watched him. "Try and get some sleep."

"Like that'll fucking help."

"It might."

"Text me when you're back. Just to make sure I didn't fuck up."

Rick closed his eyes, breathed in, and opened them. "What would happen to me if you did?"

"To be fucking honest, Rick? I don't know. Might turn into fucking goop."

"Okay."

"Yeah."

Rick wet his lips and reached out again, touching Peacock's neck. He guided him closer, pulling him in, and Rick only had to do half of the work. Peacock moved in, and they kissed, Rick sighing against his lips. It was warm, comforting, and he wanted to do it again and again.

Peacock lifted a hand, touching Rick's. He squeezed his fingers and lowered their hands, pulling back. Peacock watched him with heavy-lidded eyes. "Goodbye, Rick," he said, and then Rick fell through the floor.

This time, it was quick, less suffocating, and Rick landed on his feet in his backyard. He steadied himself, arms out. Rick dropped them when he felt he was firmly on the ground. He sighed, ran a hand through his hair, and went into the house.

*

8:06 PM

Made it back

8:08 PM

Are you safe? Okay?

8:08 PM

Yeah

8:08 PM

Good. I'm going to sleep

8:12 PM

Good night.

7:15 AM

How'd you sleep?

12:57 PM

Awful. Come over.

1:15 PM

I'm watching Judith.

1:18 PM

Watch THIS Richmond

1:20 PM

It's Richard. Wait, just call me Rick.

1:21 PM

Watch THIS Richard

1:21 PM

Rick*

Rick squeezed his phone in his hands and looked down, staring at Judith as she slipped a bonnet on the rabbit's head. He smiled a bit. "Are you sure Bonnie likes that?"

Judith gave him a look. "Yes! Look at her!"

He furrowed his brow. Bonnie's nose twitched. "I'm looking, Judy."

A crash came from down the hall. Rick sat up and tossed his phone on the couch. He glanced at Judith, ran fingers through her hair, and stood. "Stay here," he said, walking out of the room.

Judith was with him, and Carl was at school, or so he thought. Had Carl somehow snuck back in? No, that couldn't be it. He'd have noticed.

There was another tumble, and Rick turned into the bathroom. He pushed the door open and flipped on the light.

"Well, look who fucking decided to fucking finally show up!" Peacock said, head poking out of the shower curtain. His hands gripped the curtain, and with his weight, caused it to fall, rod and all. Peacock and the curtain dropped, the curtain landing half in the tub and half out, and Peacock disappeared under the dark fabric, laughing as he laid in the tub.

Rick shook his head, rubbing his face. "No, no."

"Daddy?"

He poked his head out of the room, leaning to look in the living room. "I'm fine, Judy! Just play with Bonnie. Stay in there." Rick went back into the bathroom, kicking the door closed behind him. "What the hell are you doing here?" he asked, voice hushed. Rick grabbed the shower rod and lifted it, uncovering Peacock.

"Mm, I wanted to see you." Peacock tipped his head back, looking up at Rick. "You wouldn't come over, so." He blew out a long stream of air, hands waving, shoulders loose. "Here I am," he sang.

Rick set the curtain rod aside, near the wall, out of the way. He crouched in front of the bathtub, studying Peacock. "I know you said you slept awful, but you look like you haven't slept all night." He reached out, taking Peacock's head in his hands. Rick smoothed his thumbs under his eyes, feeling the bone.

"I slept." Peacock shut his eyes. "Isn't always enough when you have fucking shit hovering above you every goddamn time."

"What?"

Peacock turned, his back to Rick and forehead pressed to the shower wall. He was quiet and didn't say anything. As Rick crouched there, listening, he heard Peacock start to snore. Rick pressed his lips together and stood. He picked the curtain rod off the floor and went up on the tips of his toes to stick it back on the wall. Peacock slept through it, and Rick pulled the curtain closed, obscuring him from view. He took a few steps back to examine his work and then returned to the living room.


	4. Chapter 4

The night air was cool, a pleasant chill compared to the warmth of the day. Still, Rick sat on the steps of the front porch, bare foot and in a t-shirt. He picked at his nails, and turned his head when the front door opened. Peacock stood in the doorway, patches of hair sticking up in the back, face lined with confusion and just a smidgen of tiredness. He did look better, Rick had to admit.

"Um, yeah, so I was in your fucking bathtub?" Peacock shut the door and walked over, sitting next to Rick.

"Yeah. You thought it was a bright idea to… fucking drop in unexpected. I guess you didn't quite hit your destination." Rick looked over at him.

Peacock rubbed his face, hiding any sort of expression. Rick dragged his eyes along his figure, realizing he was wearing a t-shirt and flannel bottoms. He wondered if he was already wearing that when he arrived, and he was just too occupied by the commotion to notice. Rick smiled and stared at the road. "You don't remember."

"No, fuck," Peacock said, lowering his hands. "I'm remembering now." He rested his arms on his knees, hands dangling. "Damn, I slept the whole fucking day. I really overworked myself this time, Rick."

"I didn't ask you to come."

"I fucking wanted to." Peacock turned his head. "Look at me. You're not responsible. It's my fucking fault and I have to fucking live with the shitty consequences."

Rick rubbed his knuckles, turning to watch Peacock. "What does it feel like?" he asked. "Being that tired? Exerting yourself to that extent, until you pass out."

Peacock smiled. "You ever have a-fucking-mazing sex, Rick?"

"Oh, haha."

"Alright, okay, fine. It's like I. Fuck. I can't fucking describe it. Like I said, overworking myself. I feel like I'm fucking burning up and going to turn to ashes."

"Poetic."

"Fuck you."

"Are there things you can do that don't completely drain you? Transporting yourself from one place to another seems like a great deal of work."

"You're fucking right, but I still do it because I'm a goddamn idiot. However"—he lifted a finger— "I do it in moderation, not counting these past few days. I'm fucking telling you, Rick, you make me do stupid-ass things."

Rick scratched his head. "Like drop into a bathtub."

"Your fucking bathtub gave me a neck cramp." Peacock lifted a hand and rubbed the offending body part, frowning.

"Tell me what you can do that isn't so stressful," Rick said. He stood and moved behind Peacock, nudging him down a couple steps. Peacock obeyed without question, and Rick sat down, legs on either side of him. He lightly touched Peacock's neck, rubbing, digging in fingertips.

Peacock hummed. "God _damn_ , Rick. What else do those fucking fingers do?" He laughed at his own joke, and though he couldn't see, Rick smiled. "Let's see. Lookie there, Rick. That streetlamp?" Peacock pointed, then held up his hand, palm out and fingers outstretched. In a matter of seconds, the light went out in the lamppost. Peacock turned his hand, palm up, and the small beam of light balanced in the center.

Rick stilled his fingers against Peacock's neck, staring at the ball of light with narrowed eyes. He reached around him, prodding at it with a finger. It was warm, but not overwhelmingly so. He pulled his hand back, returning to his neck. "That's cool," he murmured.

"Yeah?" Peacock blew, the sphere flying out of his hand and toward the streetlamp. It flicked back on, like nothing had disturbed it. "Wanna see something fucking hotter?" He leaned against Rick, an arm resting on his thigh.

"Oh yeah."

Peacock lifted his hand, palm up again, and bent his fingers like claws. At the motion, a stream of fire shot up from his skin, his fingers, and Rick pulled back. The flames' warmth licked his cheeks. Peacock laughed and shook his hand, the flames disappearing. "That was hot."

Rick slowly scooted back to his original position, fingers absently touching the side of Peacock's neck. "Does it hurt?"

"Nah, just a bit of tingling. If I want to smoke a cigarette, I don't even need a fucking lighter." Peacock made a gun with his hand, index and middle finger and thumb fully extended. "Pow!" He bent his thumb, shooting the 'gun' and a small flame spiraled out from his fingertips. Peacock leaned in and blew on the flame, making it disappear easily. He dropped his hand, both elbows now resting on Rick's thighs. "I like to have fucking fun with it."

Rick smiled again, rubbing his thumbs into his neck again. "I can definitely see that."

"I can also make it snow, but I think that is a tad unnecessary right now."

"Thanks."

Peacock bowed his head, and Rick lowered his hands to the nape of his neck. "That sort of shit doesn't bother me as much. Any sort of magic shit takes a toll. Not all of it is as bad as the portals… portalling. That's not even counting the rabbit thing. She called it Bonnie, I think? Yeah, making live things takes a long-ass time to perfect. You're lucky I didn't give your daughter some fucking goop. I don't do it often. Those things probably live forever."

"Thanks for giving me an immortal rabbit." Rick slid his fingers along the front of Peacock's neck. He felt the hem of his shirt. "I can't even imagine." He looked down as Peacock leaned his head back, watching him. "Being able to do all that, keeping it a secret to practically everyone." Rick swallowed and ran his thumb along Peacock's lower lip. "How'd Lucille take it? The first time you told her."

Peacock gave a small frown and closed his eyes. "She didn't. It was tough. We got through it. But it doesn't matter now. I'd like to think I fucking learned."

"And what was that lesson?" Rick asked, furrowing his brow.

He opened his eyes, looking up at Rick. "I don't want to talk about that," he said softly. "Kiss me a little. A lot. Take me to bed if you want. I'll let you."

Rick cupped the side of his face and leaned down, pressing a kiss to his lips. It was lopsided but he met Peacock's pursed lips all the same. That position didn't hold long, and Peacock moved, sitting next to Rick. He kissed him, lips parting and allowing him in. Rick didn't hesitate.

He carefully kissed him, slow and lingering, fingers resting on the crook of Peacock's elbow. Rick felt his warm tongue against his, and goosebumps against his fingertips. He pulled back, eyes still closed and tips of noses still touching. "Tell me your real name?"

"Not yet," Peacock whispered and kissed him again.

They spent a few more minutes outside, kisses growing heavy and touches getting more handsy, before they had to go in. Rick quietly shut the front door and lead Peacock through the house, hands behind his back as he held onto his fingers. Getting to the bedroom wasn't difficult. It was trying to figure out who would be the one to undress the other completely first. So far, Peacock had the lead, already tossing Rick's shirt somewhere and assaulting the button on his jeans.

"Come on, Rick," Peacock breathed out against his lips, dragging the zipper down. "All my clothes can just slide off." He dipped his head, kissing, biting at his neck. "You're slacking."

Rick grabbed Peacock's hips and shoved him toward the bed. "Shut up." He climbed on, pressing up against him. "I've got a better use for that mouth," he murmured.

Peacock let out a breathy laugh, the end half of it turning into a moan. "Oh, yes sir. Don't make me beg."

He slid an arm around Peacock's waist, rolling them over in the bed. "Go on, then. You're almost there."

Rick only got a hum for a reply, as Peacock moved lower, tugging Rick's jeans down enough to pull his cock out. If anything, Rick had to admire Peacock's enthusiasm, not wasting any time with taking Rick halfway down his throat, nose buried in pubic hair and groaning. Rick curled his toes and lowered his hand to rake his fingers through Peacock's hair. "Holy shit," he breathed out. "Don't stop."

The next few minutes were a flurry of movement. To Rick's slight disappointment, Peacock did stop, but it wasn't in vain. Clothes thrown aside, bed covers wrinkled and pulled, Rick had Peacock on his hands and knees below him, two fingers deep in him and had him begging for more.

"I told you not to," Peacock breathed out. "Don't make me fucking beg."

"That's not your decision," Rick murmured and bit his earlobe. "Tell me what you want."

"Goddamn, Rick. Fuck me. Want me to come on your fucking nice-ass sheets?"

Rick slipped his fingers out, grabbed hold of Peacock's waist, and flipped him over. He looked down at him, hands lowering to push his legs apart. "What am I gonna call you when I'm coming, huh? Because it's not going to be Peacock." Rick picked up the lubricant and dribbled some into his palm.

"You can call me a fucking bitch for all I care." Rick shook his head, glancing down and rubbing his palm against his cock, applying the lube evenly. Peacock sighed and shook his own head. "Don't fucking give me that look. And don't call me bitch. That better?"

Rick moved closer, nudging Peacock's legs with his knee. He dropped a hand and touched his waist, coaxing Peacock to lift his hips. "Yeah."

"Mm, call me babe. It'll make me all warm and fuzzy, and I'll be leaking on my fucking stomach in no damn time."

"Shut up, babe."

Peacock let out a laugh and wrapped a leg around Rick's hip. "There it is. Now, fuck me."

Rick pressed into Peacock, leaning in to leave a kiss against his lips. He felt Peacock's gasp and the slight arch of his back. Rick was slow, fully pressing in and remaining there for a couple seconds. Then, Rick dragged his lips down to Peacock's throat and tasted his sweat. Peacock groaned and lifted his hips more. His heel dug into Rick's back. "Don't stop," he murmured, his voice a low growl. Rick was reminded of that stage,  _hi, what's my lovely volunteer's name_.

He groaned and got closer, tightening his grip. "Keep talking," Rick breathed out.

"I'll never fucking stop talking, Rick," Peacock said, turning to press his face in Rick's neck. "Especially for you." He skimmed teeth along his skin.

Rick slipped a hand around, cupping the back of Peacock's neck, and fucked him harder. Peacock never stopped talking.

After, they laid next to each other, legs tangled and chests heaving. Rick could hear static crackling. He lifted his hands and rubbed his ears. "That was… good."

"Just good? You wound me, Rick." Peacock turned, looking down at Rick. He smiled and leaned in, giving him a quick kiss. Rick felt his lips tingle. "Tell me how it was."

Rick kissed him again, touching his cheek. He rubbed the pads of his fingers against the stubble decorating his skin. "Magical," Rick said, smiling.

Peacock sighed loudly. "Damn, Rick, you're a fucking idiot." He fell against the bed, closing his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah." Rick sat up and scooted to the edge of the bed. In the darkness, he felt around for the switch on the nightstand's lamp. He pressed the switch, hearing it click, but nothing happened. Rick blinked and tried again. Three times. Six.

"Ricky dicky, it didn't fucking work the first time."

"Light bulb blew out," Rick said and got out of bed. He didn't hear what Peacock said, but he could make out the word "cock" underneath his breath, followed by a laugh.

He walked to the other side of the room, kicking a t-shirt. Rick flipped on the light. Nothing happened. Rick narrowed his eyes and did the same as the lamp switch, flipping it on and off several times. No change.

" _Riiiiiiick_ , you're killing me." A small light appeared, and Rick turned, seeing a flame nestled in the palm of Peacock's hand.

Rick tipped his head to the side and moved back to the bed, laugh. "You know what I think?" He stopped beside the bed, hands on his hips.

"Goddamn, Rick, you are so fucking beautiful. Get back in bed. Toss me around some more."

"I think you came and blew a fuse."

Peacock was quiet, staring at Rick, propped up by an elbow, his other hand raised with the flame in his palm, like he was presenting a grand prize. He blinked. "You're full of shit."

"Then why are all the lights out in the room? And I heard something right after. Kind of… tingly."

He was quiet again, looking around the room. Then, he sighed, shaking his head. "Shit, this is fucking embarrassing. Never had that happen." Peacock looked up, raising a brow. "Hold out your hand, Rick."

Rick stretched out his arm. "I'm not mad. I'll go and check. See if that's what happened."

"Keep this safe for me." Peacock leaned in, blew on Rick's palm, and dumped the small flame in his outstretched hand. "'ppreciate it."

Immediately, Rick pulled his arm back, but the flame stayed, hovering inches above his skin. He narrowed his eyes and waved his hand. The flame circled around, now resting on the backs of his knuckles. It wasn't hot, wasn't overbearing, just a bit prickly. "I don't even wanna ask," he murmured, turning his hand to watch the flame follow.

"Good. Lemme clean up a bit and you can take that little flame and check on the fuse situation." Peacock stood, going into the en-suite bathroom. "Follow me, babe. Can't see shit."

Rick stepped over clothes and the end of a blanket, stopping in the doorway. He kept his hand up, holding their only source of light close. He watched as Peacock rooted through the bathroom, grabbing a washcloth and wetting it. Rick leaned his head against the doorframe. "I thought I was supposed to call you babe."

Peacock dropped the washcloth in the sink after he finished dragging it across his skin. He looked over, eyebrow raised. "You cool with me calling you that? I can stop." His voice was soft. His hands touched the edge of the sink, studying Rick.

"No, it's fine. I just. I think it's only fair I know your name."

"Life isn't fair, Rick." Peacock pushed off from the sink and moved into the bedroom, gathering his clothes and slipping them on. "Fuck no, it is not." Peacock stretched out his hand. "But. N. My name starts with an N."

"Really?" Rick stopped in front of Peacock. "An N?"

Peacock nodded. He wiggled his fingers. "Baby steps. Now hand that back to me."

"Want me to blow on your palm?"

"I can give you a few things to blow on. Go. Get dressed. Check the fuse. Before your kids wake up all confused and fucking frightened."

Rick smiled and turned his hand over, watching the flame slowly peel from his skin and drop into Peacock's palm. It nestled in the dip of his hand. Peacock smiled. "Thank ya."

"You're staying in here?" Rick picked the remaining clothes off from the floor, pulling them on.

"Safer. I'll be real quiet. Just in case one of your kids gets the bright idea to check in here. They won't even know." Peacock stepped forward, passing the flame back over to Rick. "If you just rub that against your shirt, it'll go out. Don't fucking worry, you won't catch on fire."

Rick stared at the strange fire and stepped back. "I won't be long. Just pop down to the basement." He paused. "N. Eeeen."

"Eeny, meeny, miny, moe. Hurry back and—fuck, I'm too tired to come up with a damn rhyme. Just fucking come back." Peacock walked back to the bed, lying down. "I wanna fucking spoon. But I wanna be the little spoon."

Rick shook his head, rolled his eyes, and walked out of the room. He took care to keep the flame to his chest, ready to hide it if Judith or Carl decided to come out. Hopefully, they were still asleep. It was getting late. He didn't think they were being too loud.

When he opened the fuse box, he stared for a while. Peacock hadn't blown a fuse, but they were all switched off. Close enough. Still his fault. Rick smiled and flipped them back on. He went back upstairs, down the hall, and rubbed the flame against his shirt when he saw the lamp on in their bedroom. His bedroom. Just his.

Rick shut the door and leaned against it, studying Peacock. "Didn't blow a fuse. Turned them all off."

Peacock, arms behind his head, smiled. "Fucking magic dick, huh?"

"Nope, nope. Don't even." Rick laughed, walking to the bed and crawling on. "Don't fucking say that." He wrapped his arms around Peacock and kissed him again and again. Peacock laughed and laughed.


	5. Chapter 5

Rick woke up to screaming. He jerked and turned over in bed, staring at Peacock as he squeezed his eyes closed and tried to muffle his shouts behind sealed lips. His cheeks were stained with tears. Rick reached out, getting closer and touching his face. "Hey, hey, shh. It's okay," he muttered. "You don't have to do that."

"I don't fucking know what else to do," Peacock said, eyes still closed. "I can't fucking do anything."

"Come here. Tell me what happened." Rick pulled at his shoulders, coaxing him closer but Peacock was a dead weight against him.

Peacock opened his eyes and frowned. "I can't move, Rick. Can't do anything." He let out a shaky breath. "Goddamn, why is this fucking happening?! Here, of all fucking places! I thought I was safe. Fucking safe!" He shut his eyes again and roughly swallowed. "I'm sorry," he mumbled. "I'm so fucking sorry. I didn't mean to. Please, leave me alone. Fucking please."

Rick stayed there, unsure of what to do. He rubbed at Peacock's arms, glancing at the clock. Three in the morning. "Should I call someone?" he tried.

"No. It'll pass. Just… Fucking Christ, this isn't goddamn fucking fair. Just. Stay there. Keep talking so I don't have to hear her."

"Okay, uh." Rick scooted closer, lowering to grab his hands. "I'll tell you a story. Judith loves it when I tell her stories before bed."

Faintly, Peacock squeezed Rick's fingers. "Get the fuck on with it."

"Right, right." Rick let his head rest on the pillow next to him, concentrating on rubbing Peacock's knuckles rather than the coherence of the story. Peacock didn't say anything, though Rick didn't expect him to. After a few minutes, Peacock breathed in and managed to sit up, hanging his head in his hands.

He pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes. "Holy goddamn. I have to fucking go." Peacock moved out of bed, his foot getting stuck in the covers.

Rick reached for him, only grabbing air. "Don't go. Stay. Please, you don't have to. I, I don't think it's safe."

"You're right, it isn't fucking safe. I can't do this to you. Not you. Not fucking you. Shit!" Peacock yelled and spun, throwing his arm out. The wall gave out an audible crack, and a portal appeared. "Why do I fucking deserve to be happy?!" Peacock marched out before Rick could say another word. The portal expanded and then closed with a soft pop, the wall as smooth as ever.

Rick sat there, in bed, covers tossed aside. He shut his eyes and bowed his head.

Judith began to cry. Rick stayed still for a moment more before getting out of bed and going to her room.

"Bad dream," she said.

"Me too."

*

8:13 AM

Hey, you okay?

8:15 AM

It's fine if you don't want to talk to me but can you at least send me a yes or a no so I can know if you're okay

8:20 AM

Just text me if you need anything. I'll try and help.

8:34 AM

Don't you have a fucking job

8:36 AM

Retired

8:39 AM

You're too damn young to be retired

8:45 AM

Are you okay? Did you make it back fine? You were pretty angry

9:56 AM

Yeah I'm fucking peachy. Don't you worry about a damn thing.

12:06 PM

Do you get like that a lot?

12:07 PM

Get all frozen. Scared.

12:07 PM

Talk about her

12:10 PM

Shut your damn mouth Rick

12:11 PM

Sorry

9:24 PM

Will you be okay tonight?

9:47 PM

Cutting it close Rick

9:50 PM

I'm here if you need anything

9:51 PM

Why would I need you

9:53 PM

No reason at all. Good night.

3:06 AM

Rick

7:23 AM

I just woke up, you okay?

8:56 AM

Hey?

9:16 AM

I am now.

9:22 AM

That's good. I'm glad.

10:02 AM

It's just sleep paralysis. Sometimes I can manage it. Sometimes I fucking can't.

10:05 AM

I can fall asleep right fucking after some nights. Other nights I fucking can't because it feels like something's squeezing me and I can't breathe.

10:09 AM

It's scary-ass shit when you wake up and you can't move and you feel like you're trapped in your fucking body and your dead fucking wife that you fucking killed is sitting on your goddamn chest and wants you to fucking die too

10:15 AM

Shouldn't do this over text.

10:18 AM

I want you here

10:19 AM

She's worse when you're here but I want you

11:01 AM

The kids are going to spend the weekend with my brother. He's coming to get them at 6. Can you wait?

11:07 AM

Yeah

That evening, at five fifty-two, Rick hugged Judith and Carl goodbye. He scratched the top of Bonnie's head. "Carl's been looking forward to this. He said you got a new game or something." Carl stared at Rick, and Jeffrey laughed.

"Don't give your dad that look. We've been talking about it all week. Can't deny it." Jeff pointed at Bonnie. "Never mentioned this, though."

Rick pushed back Judith's hair. "She takes really good care of her. Also, she minds her own. The rabbit. Won't be a bother. Plus, she begged and I couldn't say no."

"Yeah, yeah, rabbits are… They're cool. Let's get going, guys! Tell your dad bye."

They exchanged one last hug, Rick giving Judith a loud kiss on her cheek, and they were gone, loaded into the car and making their way across town. They wouldn't be far. Rick shut the door and locked it.

There was a loud snap, and Rick turned his head, catching the eyes of Peacock as he walked out of a portal. Without a word, he wrapped an arm around Rick's waist, spun him around, and took him right back through.

It was a quick squeeze, a second of darkness, and they were in Peacock's bedroom. Rick stumbled upon arriving, never experiencing travel that fast before. He kept a hand to his head, almost feeling his brain whirl. "Okay, that was, uh," he paused. Rick lowered his hand and glanced at the clock. Exactly six. Rick looked at Peacock, whose back was to him as he faced the dresser's mirror. In the reflection, he saw Peacock moving things around on the dresser. "What if my brother was still there? That wasn't safe." Rick squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. He didn't want to do this, argue, not after these couple of days.

"Two things," Peacock started, lifting two fingers. "One, I'm a goddamn motherfucking idiot. Two, call me Negan. That's my name, and I've been a fucking idiot, and I want to hear you say my name. I thought, shit, I guess I thought not telling you my name would… wouldn't make this personal." He looked down, scratching the back of his head. "Guess I shouldn't have slept with you, then," he murmured.

Rick tipped his head back, chin up. He stared at Peacock, at  _Negan_ , at the tense lines of his shoulders. Rick hesitated, fingers twitching at his sides. He took a step forward, paused, then walked over. Lifting a hand, Rick touched Negan's back, sliding up to his shoulder. He curled his fingers and squeezed. Rick closed his eyes. "Can you look at me, Negan?" The name felt heavy on his tongue.

Slowly, Negan did. He dropped the deodorant he was holding and turned around. Rick lowered his hand and stared at him. Negan looked down at him with a furrowed brow and pursed lips. "I'm looking, Rick," he said, voice low.

_Hi, what's my lovely volunteer's name?_

"Me too."

_Rick. And you are?_

Negan raised a brow, leaning back. "Yeah? Do I look gross as shit? That's how I fucking feel. Spilled my fucking guts over text, told you I killed my fucking wife, and here you are, giving me that look, and all I wanna fucking do is kiss you. Giving me some mixed messages."

_The Fabulous Mr. Peacock._

"Talking might be better."

"I don't want to fucking talk." Negan stepped forward, tipping his head to the side and leaning in. Their noses touched, and Rick swallowed. Carefully, Negan touched Rick's cheek, thumb rubbing along the skin. "I want to be fucked into a coma."

Rick lifted his head and wrapped his fingers around Negan's wrist. He pulled it back, shaking his head. "Negan," he started. Negan shut his eyes, giving a visible shiver. "Open your eyes and look at me. You swept me away from my house and that's fine, but if you're not going to be serious, I'll leave. I don't know where the hell I am, but I can figure it out." Rick peeled his fingers away from his wrist and lowered his hand. "Understand?"

Negan looked down at Rick, face stern and giving nothing away. He turned, walking over to the bed. "I understand," he said. Negan sat down, glancing at Rick. "You said your kids were gone for the whole weekend?"

"Yeah."

"Would you stay, then? With me. Don't fucking leave me."

Rick took the few steps to reach the bed. He sat next to Negan and set his elbows on his knees, leaning forward. "I'll make that decision after you explain yourself."

Negan watched Rick for a moment, interlocking his fingers. He looked down at the floor, toes flexing against carpet. "Okay," he said. Negan frowned and looked at him. "From the fucking beginning?"

"From the fucking beginning."

He sighed loudly. "Shit, Rick." Negan ran a hand through his hair. "You know the fucking basics. I was born this way, I kept it fucking hidden, because how the hell am I supposed to fucking explain myself?" Negan bowed his head, hands pressed to his face. "I'm fucking burdened and cursed, and I, I don't want to fucking do this anymore."

Rick watched him, frowning. "Would you miss it? Being able to do all the things you can do?"

Negan laughed. "I mean, shit, I have to make sure my fucking car is still in working order. I bought that piece of shit to keep up appearances. I think I remember how to fucking drive."

"I'm not just talking about the portalling or whatever. The little tricks you do. I'm sure you're reliant on them."

"Hell yeah," Negan murmured. "Half the time I don't even have to fucking"—he waved a hand toward the bedroom door, swinging it open and closed. Then, he snapped his fingers, and the lights in the room went out. Another snap, and the lamp on the nightstand came back on. "To be pretty fucking honest, though, I think they make those fucking lights you can clap and they turn on."

Rick smiled and scratched the back of his head. "I don't think those were very popular."

"Whatever." Negan threaded his fingers together again, curling and uncurling them. "I'm not suited for this, Rick. Everything's draining me, and my fucking dead wife haunting my ass every night isn't helping shit."

"Tell me about her." Rick laid back, looking up at the ceiling.

Negan followed, scooting down so he could be eye level with Rick. His t-shirt rode up. Rick wasn't looking. "You wanna know how I fucking killed her?"

"I… I'm more interested in why she torments you every night."

"The things I've told you, they're true enough, but I left shit out." Negan pulled a leg up on the bed, arms crossing over his chest. "We did meet in Virginia, she was my assistant, and she didn't take it well when she found out I could do the things I do. She didn't fucking take it well every single damn time."

Rick narrowed his eyes and stared at a spot on the ceiling. Then, he looked at Negan. "What does that mean? 'Every single damn time'?"

Negan hesitated, glaring at nothing in particular. "When I first met her, I didn't tell her shit. We got closer. Got closer pretty fast. And it was only a matter of time before she found out, I fucking figured, so I, I told her." He frowned. "She fucking freaked out. Threatened to throw me out of the house. She didn't fucking understand, but goddamn, I didn't understand what was fucking going on with myself either, and I was rolling with the fucking punches. Why couldn't she?" Negan closed his eyes and breathed in. "I didn't want to lose her, Rick, I really fucking didn't, so I made her forget. Made her forget I ever told her I was a warlock-y piece of shit."

He frowned, too. "And did that work?"

"Yeah, it fucking did. And we were pretty damn happy. We moved on like it never fucking happened. Which it didn't, if you really thought about it. I mean, shit, she didn't think it happened, and I was glad to play along."

"How did she become your assistant if she didn't seem to… approve?"

Negan lifted a hand, covering the side of his face. If Rick knew any better, he'd say Negan was embarrassed. "I am a very, very fucking selfish man, Rick. She knew I liked to do these little tricks, and I was pretty damn good at them. I never told her my fucking secrets, because I know how that would fucking end up. I told her enough to get her on the stage with me. As you know, as my lovely assistant, you might experience some shit you might not enjoy. Shit you can't explain."

Rick rubbed his face. "You put her through everything, she didn't like it, she found out, and you made her forget." He dropped his hand. "Didn't you?"

Negan was quiet, and Rick watched him, his eyes fixed on a corner of the room. He pressed his fingers to his lips, starting to shake his head. "Every single damn time," he muttered. "What the hell was the matter with her? Why couldn't she fucking accept me for who I was? I know I'm a fucking hard man to love, but goddamn. She wanted to have kids with me, and she didn't like how unnatural I was? Shit." Negan sat up, hunching over and cradling his face in his hands. He roughly scratched his head.

"She wasn't the one for you, then," Rick said slowly, weighing his words. "I mean, yeah, you're not the most normal man in the world, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't have someone who understands and accepts you." He pushed himself up, too, mirroring Negan's position, without the hair tugging. "I'm not condoning what you did to her, though. No one deserves to have their heads messed with like that. Having those lapses in your memory? I'd imagine that's pretty fucking scary."

"I  _loved_  her, Rick," Negan said softly.

"How did it end?"

"After one of our acts, I let her keep her memory. She was pissed, shaken up, not much different from how you reacted after you climbed down from that fucking tree."

_What the hell did you do to me?_

"She wanted to fucking leave. She wanted  _me_  to fucking leave. Neither of us left, so we spent days, hell I think it lasted for a few weeks, being pissed off at each other. Fucking unhealthy, but she was there and she knew about me, and… it provided some sort of fucking comfort. Not much fucking comfort, because she wouldn't even touch me anymore but all that fucking mattered to me was that she was still with me.

"And then, she wanted to forget. She wanted to fucking forget everything about me, about us, and goddamn, I don't think I ever cried that much before." Negan laughed, the sound hollow and jarring to Rick's ears. Slowly, Rick reached out, lightly touching Negan's arm. He squeezed. Negan looked over at Rick, eyebrows raised as if he were surprised to see Rick still there. He rested his hand on top of Rick's, thumb sliding over the knuckles.

"What happened next?"

Negan sighed, keeping his eyes on Rick. "I fucking refused. I mean, I know I spent months making her fucking forget a few hours of a day, but this was different. She wanted to fuck off somewhere and move on with her life without me, and I didn't want that to happen. We had months together, and she wanted it all to be gone. I wasn't going to fucking do that to her. She wasn't going to make me fucking do that. That's my shit, and I make my own damn decisions with it."

"Something happened, though," Rick said.

"We were angry, one night. Fucking screaming at each other. She tried to push me, make me do what she fucking wanted, but  _darling, that's not how that fucking works_ ," Negan hissed, tightening his grip on Rick's hand. He shook his head and loosened his grip almost immediately. "And, honest to God, I don't remember how it happened, but one second she was alive and breathing in front of me. Then she was grabbing my hand and yanking my arm, and twitching and convulsing and falling the fuck down and." He stopped, lips pressed together.

Rick looked down, staring at the floor. He absently rubbed the side of his thumb against Negan's arm. "Just like that?"

"Just like fucking that. I think I fried her fucking brains or something. Her heart? Who the fuck knows. Doctors said it was cardiac arrest. I didn't fight them."

"Her family, how did they react? Did they raise any suspicion? A young woman just doesn't drop dead from a cardiac arrest."

Negan grimaced. "A family doesn't ask questions if they don't fucking know who you are."

"You didn't."

Negan closed his eyes and nodded. "I fucking did."

"Why the hell did you stay in Kentucky, then?"

"Something about this fucking place made me want to stay." Negan shrugged. He lifted Rick's hand and kissed his wrist, his knuckles. Negan let his hand go and stood up. He stayed there, rubbing the back of his neck. "My neck fucking hurts, and I haven't slept in your tub for days," he mumbled. Negan lowered his hand and glanced at Rick. "No one really knew who I was here. With… With her gone and her family fucked off somewhere, I was safe. No reason to leave. It was almost like a fucking fresh start."

Rick watched Negan, chewing on the inside of his cheek. "I'm glad you told me, Negan."

"Yeah? Me fucking too, Rick." Negan turned around, facing Rick. He moved to the side, standing in front of him. Reaching out, he took Rick's hands, setting them on his hips. "Somehow, I don't think it'll fucking help matters." At Rick's furrowed brow, Negan waved a hand. "Her ass tormenting my ass every night."

He looked over his shoulder, spotting the clock on the dresser. Almost seven. Rick squeezed Negan's sides and looked back up at him. "I'll be here with you."

Negan raised his eyebrows. "You will? You're not fucking leaving me?" He squinted. "Even after everything? You're not… fucking disgusted with me? Never want to fucking see me again? Hate my fucking guts?"

Rick lowered a hand, slipping a finger through a belt loop. "No, I'm not, and I don't. I am a bit uncomfortable about the decisions you made, with her in the beginning, but I can understand why you did what you did." He tugged, just a bit. "You wanted to be with someone who could accept you for who you were. You wanted love. You thought you had it. You didn't." Negan's stare grew cold, eyes narrowing more. Rick didn't waver. "Maybe you'll find it." He wet his lips. "Why didn't you wipe my memory?"

"I was about to," Negan said. "I had my magic fingers at the ready, but you reminded me of her. So, I didn't. I waited to see what would happen. And do you know what fucking happened, Rick? You weren't like her at all."

Rick slid his hands into Negan's shirt, up his back. "I don't think I'd like being a weak imitation of your dead wife."

"Hoo, Rick. You are not her. There was that spark, that fire in those baby-blue eyes, but you are not her at all." Negan watched him, lowering a hand and touching Rick's chin. He tipped his head back. "I like that."

"Get on the bed."

"Ordering me around in my own fucking house? You got some balls, Rick."

Rick tugged again at the belt loop. "You gonna listen to me or not?" He pushed Negan's shirt up, leaning in and pressing a kiss to his stomach. Negan was warm, he was alive and here right now, and Rick wanted  _everything_. He moved, dragging his lips to Negan's side. There were fingers in his hair, and Rick got closer.

Negan sighed, a loud exhale through his nose. He scratched the nape of Rick's neck. "One thing, Rick," he murmured.

"One thing so you'll listen to me, or are you thinking about something?" Rick pulled back and looked up at Negan. He unbuttoned his jeans, dragging the zipper down.

"I'm thinking," Negan mumbled, reaching out to touch Rick's shoulders as he shifted, stepping out of his pants as Rick yanked them down. Negan gave a little kick, and Rick helped shove them away. Negan pushed on his shoulders, pressing Rick against the bed. Negan crawled on, looking down at him with a furrowed brow. "I feel like I should apologize."

Rick laid there, playing with the hem of Negan's shirt. "What for? Nothing you've done has, um." He frowned. "Changed anything," he finished after a moment. "That's in the past. You've learned… hopefully, but nothing's changed. You're still you, and I'm still me. It's just that I know more about you. What's made you the way you are. You've been like this the whole time. I just didn't know."

Negan looked down at him, eyes narrowed in concentration. He tucked his fingers in the collar of Rick's shirt. "You're fucking right, Rick. Nothing's changed, I don't think." He gave a slow smile. "I guess we'll fucking find out tonight. She really didn't like it when I was in your bed." Negan pulled his hand away to peel off his shirt. He dropped it over the edge of the bed.

Rick sat up, hands sliding up Negan's back again. He kissed his chest, lips skimming over a nipple. "Does she look the same?" he asked. Rick stretched up, kissing the hollow of Negan's throat.

"Hell fucking no. She's a fucking demon. I'm convinced." Negan cupped the back of Rick's head. "Nothing you can do, Rick. It's my burden to bear."

He was quiet, wrapping an arm around Negan's waist and turning them over in bed. Rick looked down at him. He touched his cheek, thumb to his lips. "Have you been with anyone else since she died?"

Negan held onto Rick's wrist and leaned in, lips pressed to Rick's. He lingered, tongue warm and heavy. "Just you, Rick," he murmured. "There's been no one else. No one that's fucking piqued my interest. Made my dick wet."

"Shut the hell up."

He laughed. Negan lowered his hands and worked on the buttons of Rick's shirt. "If I met someone special," Negan started, eyebrows together and face lined. Rick stared at him, not daring to interrupt. He pushed his shirt off his shoulders and let it fall to the floor. Negan ran his hands up his chest, fingers curling and nails digging into his shoulders. "I wouldn't want them to fucking know about me. What I can fucking do. I'll stop. Fucking completely. I don't want them to get fucking dragged down with me."

Rick swallowed, chewing on the inside of his cheek. He tried to quieten the pounding in his chest. "You would do that?" he said, hoping his voice didn't betray anything. "If, if you met someone, you'd. From the beginning." He shut his eyes, shaking his head. Rick didn't say it, he didn't ask.

"Yeah," Negan said, hands sliding to cradle each side of Rick's neck. "From the fucking beginning. I think I could fucking do that." He brought Rick close, kissing his cheek, his jaw. "Like I said, Rick. I'm cursed and burdened, and I don't want to fucking do this anymore." His voice was rough and low, and Rick turned his head, nose to Negan's temple. "The more I fucking think about it, the more I think I can fucking give it up."

"For someone special."

They turned over again. Negan hovered above Rick, hands lowering to undo Rick's pants. "I know I said I wanted to be fucked into a coma, but I want to fuck you. Can I do that, Rick? Fuck you?"

Rick lifted his hips, moving his legs to kick off his shoes, help Negan remove his clothes. He looked at him, smothering all the things he wanted to say to the farthest and darkest corner of his mind. Rick raised a brow. "As long as you don't fucking come and cause a fire."

Negan laughed, loud, head bowed to Rick's chest. "Fuck you! That's not what happened." Negan moved, taking off the last bits of their clothes. He pressed against Rick, skin to skin, and combed fingers through his hair. "That's not what fucking happened," he muttered, kissing him again and again.

Wrapping his arms around Negan's neck, Rick nudged a knee to his side. "Tell me what fucking happened."

"Fuck you, Rick," Negan whispered, the tips of their noses brushing. He softly bit down on Rick's lower lip.


	6. Chapter 6

Rick felt like he was being watched. He opened his eyes and looked ahead at the clock on the dresser. It was three in the morning, and he still had his arm around Negan's waist. Negan was sleeping, a slight snore breaking the silence. Rick slowly lifted his head, turning away from Negan and holding his breath as he looked across the room.

There was a woman, dark hair in her face. For a second, Rick froze, but Lori was dead, and why would she be here? That didn't mean anything, because Lucille was dead, too.

She walked to Rick's side of the bed. Her arms over her chest, she looked at him. She seemed normal enough, tipping her head to the side and smiling with red lips. "You're  _him_." Her voice rang in Rick's ears, sounding far away. Rick lifted a hand to rub at an ear, though it did nothing to soothe the ringing. Negan still slept.

"Yeah. You're her."

Lucille reached out, touching Rick's cheek. Her nails were long, her skin cold. "You don't have any idea what you're doing," she said softly. Rick laid back, throat dry and chest tight. He wanted to reach up, push her hand away, but he couldn't.

She moved, getting on the bed and crouching above Rick. She seemed weightless, as she perched and looked down at him with a grimace. "There's a monster in this room, and it's not me," she said.

"I think that's what monsters usually say," Rick breathed out.

Lucille narrowed her eyes. She leaned forward, hand pressing to Rick's chest. Nails digging in, Rick watched as her features grew more grotesque, her teeth elongating, the skin on her forehead breaking. No blood came from the breaks, but curved horns. Her eyes were dark. Rick couldn't look away. "He did this to me," she hissed, voice deeper and still ringing. "You need to  _go_. There's no place for you here." She took Rick's hand, lifting it and pressing her thumb in the center of his palm.

"Why would… why would you care?" Rick mumbled.

The tip of her nail pushed into his skin. "He needs to live with what he's done."

Rick managed to laugh. "He told me you, you didn't like me." He swallowed. "Jealous."

At that, Lucille dug her nail through his skin, his palm, and leaned in his face. "He wouldn't do as I asked! He wouldn't let me go! He killed me! This is  _his_  fault!" The nail dug and dug, and Rick tried to shake his hand out of her grip.

Oh god, oh god, this  _hurt_.

"What the hell are you doing?" Negan grumbled.

Rick turned his head, eyes wide, and arm shaking. He felt blood trickle down his arm, but he couldn't see it in the dark. Lucille continued to prod, and Rick tried to speak, tried to do anything, but the most he could do was knock his heel into the mattress.  _Goddamn it, Negan, turn around_.

Negan lifted a hand, rubbing his face, and turned over, reaching and searching for Rick. Then, he saw her. "What the fucking fuck are you doing to him?" Negan shot out a hand, grabbing her by the throat. He dragged her off Rick and pushed her against the bed. Rick sucked in a breath and scrambled away, pulling his legs to his chest and cradling his bleeding hand. His head rushed, and the shrieks Lucille let out made it worse. They echoed off the walls, the sounds seemingly contained in the room.

"That doesn't do shit to me, and you fucking know it," Negan shouted in her face, fingers digging in her throat. "You can fucking torment my ass, but you do not touch him." He shook her, snarling. "That's not how this fucking works, honey." Negan squeezed and squeezed, and flames began to circle around his fingers, licking at her skin. He didn't let up, and soon, the fire consumed his whole hand, as he gripped Lucille until her face was burning. Only then did he pull away, holding his hand to the side. The flames curled and clung to his skin, but Negan didn't seem bothered. He watched as Lucille wailed and clawed at her face.

Rick shut his eyes, the warmth heating his cheeks. When he opened his eyes, Lucille wasn't moving anymore, the fire gone and replaced with dark smoke. Her face was barely recognizable, the skin melted and bone showing. Rick sucked in a breath and looked over at Negan. His hand was still on fire, and he stared at his dead wife on the bed. Rick watched as Negan began to breathe heavily, chest heaving, and he let out a cry.

"Goddamn it, darling." Negan made a fist, trying to smother the fire. He hid the hand behind his back and reached out, wrapping an arm around Lucille's waist. Negan picked her up the best he could and looked down at her. He stood there and pressed his lips together. Rick heard another cry.

Rick moved, keeping his hand to his chest, and switched on the nightstand lamp with the other. He got out of bed and went over to Negan. Rick stood next to him, pressing his left hand to Lucille's back, helping hold her. He stared at Negan, at the tears running down his cheeks. "I'm sorry," Rick said, his voice sounding odd coming from his mouth.

Negan shook his head. "It's not your fucking fault," he said, voice breaking. "It's mine. It's all my fucking fault." He tore his eyes away from Lucille and looked over at Rick. "She came to me every fucking night for fucking  _years_ , and I never done shit. I let her do whatever she fucking wanted, because I fucking  _deserved_  it. I'm a fucking piece of shit, and  _I'm_  sorry." He stared at her and pulled his hand back around, the fire weakening to small wisps on his fingertips. Negan touched her cheek, skin peeling against his touch. "I should have fucking killed you again sooner," he murmured, and let her drop. Rick stepped back, the floor seeming to open up and swallow her. The dark hole closed with a grinding sound, and all was quiet.

They stood there, several inches separating them. Each had their right hands lifted, blood coming out of Rick's and the last bursts of a dying fire from Negan's. Slowly, Negan turned his attention to Rick. "Let me patch that up," he said, taking a step forward.

"You gonna, you gonna do," Rick started, then stopped. It wasn't worth it. He was tired, and Negan was close. Rick leaned against him, the hand pressed to his back comfortably warm.

Negan laughed, a soft one near Rick's ear. "Nah, that shit was never my strong suit." He touched Rick's cheek, pulling back to look at him. "I've fucking got… uh, peroxide and fucking, um, Tylenol, though. I think that'll work. Oh, and some good-ass bandages."

"That's good enough for me."

They scrambled to find clothes before they went into the bathroom. Rick sat on the toilet, Negan across him, perched on the edge of the bathtub as he doctored Rick's hand. "Must hurt like a bitch."

"Hurts a lot," Rick muttered. He curled his fingers, wincing at the ache, the shot of pain he got. "Shit, just glad it didn't go through. Felt like it would."

Negan looked at Rick's hand thoughtfully, turning it over. He glanced at him, then leaned in to grab the peroxide. Opening the bottle, he held it in between his thighs as he fished out a cotton ball from the bag next to them. Negan tipped the bottle, getting some on the cotton ball, before beginning to gently dab at Rick's palm. "Did I scare you?" he asked quietly.

Rick sucked in a breath, closing his eyes. He curled his toes and hunched over. "Fuck," he breathed out. Rick lifted his head and raised his free hand, wiping at an eye. "God, yeah, you did, a bit." He sniffed and watched Negan, who was pointedly not looking at him. "She said there was a monster in the room, and it wasn't her."

"I'm sorry," Negan repeated. He set the cotton ball aside, the red stain stark against the white tub. Negan picked up the bandage, wrapping up Rick's hand. He pulled it snug, tight. "Sometimes, I wake up and feel like a monster." Negan looked at him, a small frown on his face. "I don't want to hurt you, Rick. I really, really don't want to fucking do that." He sighed and set Rick's hand on his knee, lifting his own to touch Rick's face. Negan rubbed his thumb along his cheek. "Tell me if I do, because I can be pretty fucking blind."

He leaned in and gave Negan a kiss, a quick one to his upper lip. Rick pulled back, pressing his forehead to Negan's. "I will." He looked down, carefully touching Negan's hand. Rick turned it over, palm up, and studied the pink skin. "Did that hurt?" he asked. He ran a thumb over a blister.

Negan looked down, too, letting Rick do what he liked. He cleared his throat and nodded. "Yeah, fucking weird. It's never hurt like that before." Negan slowly curled his fingers, catching Rick's.

"You still did it, though. Held on like that."

"Yeah."

"Why'd it take you so long to wake up? I was lying right next to you."

"I wasn't expecting her to come after you." Negan lifted his head, studying him. "You didn't fucking see her when I stayed with you." He held onto Rick's fingers. "I didn't hear fucking shit. Just felt the bed fucking move." Negan leaned their foreheads together again. "I thought she'd come after me," he murmured.

Rick closed his eyes, squeezing his knuckles. "She won't come back?"

"No."

"You didn't have to live with it. You could have… gotten rid of her sooner."

Negan tilted his head to the side, their noses brushing. "I deserved to have her fucking scream in my face every night."

"It was an accident. You couldn't have prevented it."

"I could have given her what she fucking wanted. A life without me, but I was selfish. I've always been fucking selfish, and nothing's going to change that."

Rick pressed his thumb to Negan's lower lip, pulling it down. He shook his head. "Don't talk like that," he murmured.

Negan hummed, tipping his head back. "Make me stop, Rick."

In one step, Rick stood up and crouched in front of Negan. He kissed him, left hand cradling the side of his neck. Negan wrapped his arms around Rick's waist, sliding back and landing in the tub. Rick steadied himself with a closed fist pressed to the wall. He looked down at Negan, brow raised.

"Bed sheets are charred."

Rick laughed and squeezed into the tub. He sat on Negan's hips and kissed him again.

*

In the morning, Rick got to see more of Negan's house. It was plain, unremarkable, but every inch of it was Negan. Rick stood by a bookshelf in the living room, arms crossed over his chest. He glossed over some of the books, smiling when he saw  _Harry Potter_. Rick looked over his shoulder, staring at Negan for a moment. He was by the stove, cracking an egg on a pan.

"You really like  _Harry Potter_ , then? You weren't just talking shit about the magic and Hogwarts thing?"

Negan glanced his way, a smile growing on his face. "Rick! I am disappointed in you. Of course, I like  _Harry Potter_." He leaned over, getting plates out from the cabinet. "But I will forgive you. I know people have their fucking heads up their asses about the whole wizard thing around here. Which is fucking unfortunate."

Rick walked over, standing next to Negan. "Yeah, heard that a lot a while ago. I think they're more lenient now. Because magic is… fake." He caught Negan's grin from the corner of his eye. Rick shook his head.

They sat, ate, and kicked at each other underneath the table. Rick tried to eat left-handed. Negan laughed.

*

"Why Peacock?"

Negan turned his head, stretching out his legs, a foot propped up on the coffee table. He held out his hand, wiggling his fingers. Rick scooted over on the couch, getting closer to Negan. He offered his hand, and Negan grabbed it. "Peacocks are beautiful, Rick." He kissed his knuckles.

Rick leaned against him, forehead pressed to his shoulder. "Yeah."

"Plus, it has cock in it, and I'm a fucking sucker for cock. Which, coincidentally, is also fucking beautiful."

Risking it, Rick jabbed Negan with his injured hand, fingers in between his ribs. Negan laughed and yanked on Rick's hand, pulling him in. He pressed kisses to Rick's scrunched face. "You fucking walked into that, babe."

Rick laid back, Negan clinging onto him the whole time. The couch wasn't long enough for Negan with the way he laid on Rick, but he made it work. He rested his head on Rick's chest, legs bent and wedged underneath him. Rick's own were around Negan in a not-so uncomfortable way. He kept one hand on his shoulder, absently feeling the material of his shirt. Negan was quiet as he stared at the television, arms looped around Rick's waist and hands tucked up his shirt. Rick could feel his stomach fluttering, and he knew Negan could hear his heartbeat.

"Can I ask you something?" Rick said. Negan lifted his head, chin on Rick's chest. He quirked a brow and said nothing. Rick wet his lips and nodded. "Okay, well, it's about her." Negan furrowed his brows and stared. Rick nudged him with a knee. "Don't give me that look."

"What is it, Rick?"

"Erasing her memory, did you have to listen to her tell you things twice? More than that? Because she thought she never told you, and went on like you hadn't heard before?"

Negan's features softened, and he rubbed his thumb into Rick's side. "Yeah, she did."

"Did it ever get tiring?"

"Never," Negan said, pressing a kiss to Rick's sternum and laying his head back down. "I could listen to those stories all day."

Rick scratched at his back. "Admirable."

"I like to fucking tell myself that. Go lower."


	7. Chapter 7

Rick stood by the window, fixing the blinds. He was snooping on the neighbors, but he didn't want it to be obvious. "So, you had fun today with Uncle Jeff?" he asked, switching the phone to his other ear.

"Yes! Lots and lots. He took us to the zoo!"

"Wow, the zoo? What kinds of animals did you see?" Rick felt a hand on his back, and he turned his head, looking at Negan. "Which one was your favorite?"

Negan watched him for a moment, and it must have been Rick's question or his tone of voice that answered any unsaid questions. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to Rick's shoulder.

"The elephants!" Judith said. "The giraffes were there, too."

"How many giraffes?" Rick shifted, Negan moving closer. He propped his chin on the top of his head, arms wrapping around Rick like a protective ring.

"Three. Daddy, um."

"Yeah?"

"Do you still talk to Mr. Peacock?"

Above him, he heard Negan's small snicker. Rick nudged him. "Yeah, a bit."

"Oh. Well, next time you talk to him, tell him I saw tigers! He said he liked tigers."

"He did say that, didn't he? I'll tell him. I'm sure he'll appreciate it."

"I gotta go. See you tomorrow, Daddy."

"I miss you, Judy. Does your brother want to—" Rick stopped, hearing dial tone. He frowned and looked down at his phone.

Negan laughed. "That fucking sucks, Rick." He rubbed at his arm as he pulled back. "I'm sure the tyke was super busy. You want some pizza? I want some fucking pizza."

Rick turned his phone in his hands and tapped his thumb against the screen. "Maybe. I can text Jeffrey. See if there's—"  _Crack_. Rick lifted his head, narrowing his eyes at the empty living room, at the fading touches where a portal once was. "Okay." Rick smiled, even laughed, and went to the couch. He sat down, stretching out his legs, and sent Jeffrey a text, just to check in.

Negan stepped through, a box of pizza in his hand. He stared at Rick, leaning back with a smile. "I got pizza." Negan gestured, giving a small shimmy.

"I was talking to you," Rick said, dropping his phone on his stomach. He crossed his arms over his chest.

Furrowing his brow, Negan leaned to the other side. "I'm afraid I don't fucking recall." He slowly smiled, tongue in between his teeth. "Refresh my memory, Rick." Negan walked over and sat next to Rick. He set the pizza on the coffee table and flipped the box open.

Rick straightened up, catching his phone before it fell. He stuffed it underneath a pillow. "My brother took Judith and Carl to the zoo today." Rick tore a piece of pizza out, cheese stringing. Negan reached out and twisted it around his finger. He pulled, the cheese remaining on Rick's slice sliding. "Judy saw some tigers. Wanted me to tell you."

Negan popped his finger in his mouth, smiling. "I love tigers."

"I'm sure she'll be glad to hear it," Rick said, leaning back against the couch. He took a bite from his slice, lifting a hand to stop the cheese from slipping off. Negan sat back, too, a foot propped up on the coffee table as he ate his own piece. He found the television remote under another pillow. They were both quiet as they ate, slice after slice, Negan flipping through channels. Rick didn't even say anything when Negan left it on  _Keeping Up with the Kardashians_.

"They're fucking funny."

"You don't have to defend yourself. I get it."

Rick didn't eat the pizza crusts, so Negan did without complaint or any urging. After Rick dropped one in the box to grab another slice, Negan leaned in and took the leftovers. It was okay, it was good, they had a system.

"You said you would give up magic completely, yet you used it to get us pizza," Rick said, licking a spot of sauce from his thumb.

Negan smiled, amused. "Yeah, and I fucking meant it. But I wanted to see what you would do if I fucking poofed out right when you were talking."

"Fuck off," Rick breathed out, draping one of his legs over Negan's. He listened to Negan laugh as he covered his face with his arm, turning to settle against the pillows. Rick stayed as still as he could, but that was becoming increasingly difficult to do, when Negan moved. He kept in between Rick's legs, turning until he was pressed against him. Rick sighed and tipped his chin up, feeling Negan mouth at his neck. Rick hummed and touched Negan's chest, fingers curling against his shirt. "Mm, what are you doing?"

Negan dragged his lips down Rick's skin, tongue against the hollow of his throat. He gave one long lick, slow, agonizing. Rick sighed, roughly rubbing at his forehead. Negan chuckled. "Kinda wanna fucking fool around." Negan moved, their hips pressing against each other. Rick huffed out a breath, legs spreading more to accommodate Negan.

He fell against the pillows again, arms above his head. Rick watched him. "Wanna make out for a bit?"

"Rick," Negan muttered, smiling again. "What are we, two fucking teenagers?"

"Must be. I can feel your cock against my leg." Rick smiled.

Negan wiggled his brows. "He likes you."

"Stop talking," Rick said, lifting a hand to bring Negan in close. He kissed him, lips already parted. Negan reciprocated in kind, his own hands lifting to cradle Rick's head, fingers sliding in his hair and keeping him close, close. His touch was gentle, barely there, and Rick remembered the blisters on his skin.

Carefully, Negan hooked his fingers under the collar of Rick's shirt. He pulled, just a bit. "Are you staying the night?" Negan mumbled.

Rick turned his head, kissing Negan's cheek, his neck. He was warm. "I'd like to. If you'd want me."

Negan let out a breath, a small moan. He grinned and looked down at him. "Rick, I'd let you do whatever you fucking wanted."

He didn't want to leave. He'd go back to an empty house, and Negan was here and wanted him, and Rick didn't want to be anywhere else. He didn't have to be. Rick slid his hands down Negan's sides, touching his hips. "Lie back. Wait, no. But do get off me."

Huffing, Negan moved off of Rick. He sat back, watching Rick closely as he slid off the couch. Rick crouched in front of Negan, hands resting on his thighs. He steadied himself, leaning on a knee, and began to unbutton Negan's pants. Rick paused, glanced at him, and then looked over his shoulder. "Turn that off." Negan threw out an arm, grabbing the remote and mashing the buttons until the television switched off. Rick laughed and pushed his shirt up, pressing kisses to Negan's stomach. "I like the enthusiasm." He kissed a hip, tugging his jeans lower.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome," Rick murmured. He slipped Negan's cock out, warm and heavy in his hand. Rick wrapped his fingers around him, giving a small pump.

Negan sighed. "Make my cock fucking weep, Rick," he murmured, fingers touching his cheek, Rick's parted lips.

To be a tease, Rick snuck out his tongue and licked at Negan's fingers, earning him a shiver and a stuttered curse. Rick smirked and ducked his head down, giving the underside of his cock the same treatment. "I think I can do that," he muttered. Rick took Negan into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks and breathing in through his nose. Negan's resulting groan and curled toes told him all he needed to know.

Minutes later, after Negan had done a fair bit of cursing and slight stomping, he gave his hips a shake. He scratched the back of Rick's head. "Holy goddamn shit, Rick. Stop, you're gonna make me fucking come."

Rick pulled back, a trail of spit clinging to his lower lip. He looked up, wetting his lips and moving his hand along Negan's slick cock. "Don't you wanna come?" Rick asked, leaning forward and tipping his head to the side. He kissed Negan, lips sliding easily together.

Negan moaned, low in his throat, and he held onto Rick's neck. He kept him close, dragging the kiss along. Slowly, he pulled away, nails digging into Rick's nape. "Want you to fucking bend me over." Negan bit Rick's lower lip. "Dick me down."

The rough desperation in his voice made Rick shiver. He moved his hands, grabbing ahold of Negan's waist. Rick yanked him closer as he leaned over him. He felt one of Negan's heels dig into the back of his thigh, pulling him close, too. Rick kissed Negan again, only slightly off the mark, but the bruising pressure made up for the lack of coordination.

"Not here."

"Yeah, not here."

"Bedroom."

"Yeah, bedroom. Good fucking idea."

They stood, and Rick waited as Negan shoved his cock back in his pants, leaving the rest disheveled. It didn't matter. It'd be worse in a few minutes.

Negan wrapped an arm around Rick's waist and pushed him to go faster. "Goddamn, Rick," he hissed. Negan shoved Rick into the bedroom, stepping in after. He tossed his arm behind him, the door swinging until it shut with a slam. Rick turned and stared at Negan, smiling as he fiddled with the buttons on his shirt. Negan did a gesture with his fingers, and the lock on the door clicked.

Rick slipped his shirt off. "Gotta stop doing that."  _Not now._

"I'm gonna come," Negan started, crowding up against Rick as they toppled on the bed, "and burn the house down." He pressed his face into the crook of Rick's neck, grinding his hips against his leg.

Rick groaned, closing his eyes, and lowered his hands, unbuttoning his pants. "Sheets already charred," he murmured.

"Ruin me, Rick," Negan whispered, lips to his ear.

Rick turned them over.

*

The water was just a bit too hot, but Rick didn't turn the dial. He figured the temperature was to Negan's liking, and it wasn't unbearable.

"It's okay," Rick murmured, lifting his hands to touch Negan's face. He stood in the way of the spray, wiping away water and tears from his cheeks. "It's okay."

Negan squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed. "I'm never gonna see her again, Rick."

They kissed, and it was wet. Rick lowered his hands and held onto Negan's. He rubbed circles into the backs of his hands. Two-thirty in the morning was probably not the best time for a shower.

After collecting himself, Negan cleared his throat and shook his head. "Enough of that bullshit," he said and let his forehead rest against Rick's, just for a moment. "I'm better off now. What I was doing, fucking unhealthy."

"Mm."

"Turn around. Lemme wash your hair."

Negan's fingers were skilled, practiced, relaxing. It was almost as good as being fingered. Almost.

Rick moved on to Negan's hair, standing on the tips of his toes and smoothing the strands back to see if he could see any gray. There was a couple near the temples, but most were in his facial hair. Rick rubbed his palm against his cheek, wet skin dragging across the prickly surface. "I can't imagine what's underneath this," Rick said.

"A fucking ugly mug. I can say the same to you, Rick."

The worst part about sex in the shower was the threat of falling. Though, that didn't stop Negan from hoisting Rick up and not letting him touch the floor until he came.

Negan stood in front of the bathroom mirror, combing his hair back, a towel draped over his hips. "Took it like a fucking champ." He smiled and looked at Rick in the mirror. Rick turned his head, propping himself up with a hand. He tipped away from the shower head and gave a smile.

"Get out of here," he managed, letting out a sigh.

Negan left him with a towel and a grin.

Once his knees were no longer shaking, Rick turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. He grabbed the towel Negan left behind and worked on drying off. Rick scratched his chin, thought about how he would react if Negan shaved, and wondered if Jeffrey ever texted back. It had been hours. His phone was probably still in the living room, under a couch cushion. First, though, clothes.

He went into the bedroom, staring at Negan as he laid in bed. The blankets were tossed over his lap, his hands clasped together and resting on his stomach. One of his legs stuck out from the covers, showing a white sock pulled halfway up his shin. Rick narrowed his eyes, but Negan didn't see. His eyes were closed. Rick searched the clothes on the floor, picking up his underwear. He stumbled while stepping into them, but he was able to steady himself against the bed. "Telling me I shouldn't wear socks to bed. Look at you."

Negan slowly smiled, the tip of his tongue poking in between his lips.

"You're not just wearing socks, right?"

"You tell me." Negan opened his eyes and looked over at Rick. He tossed back the blanket, and revealed that, yes, he was just wearing socks.

Rick rubbed his face, his eyes, and sighed. "When I come back," he started, not bothering to even finish his sentence. Rick left the room and could still hear Negan cackle from down the hall.

The rest of the house was dark, quiet, and Rick found it hard to believe that every night, Negan had let it become haunted. Then again, he wasn't in the same frame of mind as Negan, wasn't consumed by guilt of what he had done to his wife. If the tables were turned, Rick figured he'd do the same. He might not have waited so long to get rid of her, though. That wouldn't have been fair to his kids.

His phone was shoved underneath a cushion. Rick pulled it out and pressed a few buttons until the screen lit up. Squinting against the light, Rick tapped his thumb against the glass. Jeffrey had texted back, just a few minutes after he had sent the message, and reassured that everything was going okay with Carl and Judith. The appropriate reply time frame had already passed, and Rick didn't want his brother to wonder why exactly he waited until three in the morning to text him back. Best to leave it alone.

With his phone in hand, Rick made his way back to Negan's bedroom. He didn't hear any laughter, but about halfway down the hall, Negan let out loud "fuck". Rick quickened his pace and turned into the room, spotting Negan in the middle of the room, staring at his own phone. He had managed to find his boxers from the clothing strewn out on the floor. The socks were still on his feet. Rick walked past him, setting his phone on the nightstand. "What's going on?"

Negan lifted a hand and roughly scratched at his head. "You ever make fucking plans, like, weeks ago, and when the time comes, you really don't want to fucking go through with them?" He looked up from his phone, staring at Rick as he moved to stand next to him. Negan sighed and reached out with his free hand, touching Rick's cheek. "Damn," he murmured.

Rick raised his own hand, pulling Negan's away. He squeezed his fingers. "Focus. What did you do?"

Frowning, Negan did nothing to pull his hand away from Rick's hold. He looked back at his phone. "I told these fucking parents I'd do their kid's fucking birthday party. They booked me. I already got the fucking money."

"When?"

"Tomorrow. Well, shit. It's today, really."

Rick frowned, too, and let go of Negan's hand. "And you remembered this now?"

Negan waved his phone around. "I got a fucking reminder. I didn't see it earlier because I was too busy getting my fucking dick wet. And your dick wet. Goddamn. We were fucking busy tonight." He looked down at his phone, brows furrowed. Negan closed his eyes and sighed. He lowered his phone, arm dangling. "Goddamn it," he breathed out. Negan went to the bed, sitting on the edge. He balanced his phone on his knee, looking at the reminder on the screen.

"This means a lot to you?" Rick tried after a couple minutes of silence. He got into the bed, leaning against the headboard. Stretching out a leg, Rick pressed his toes into Negan's back.

"Well, fuck yeah. I mean, I don't want to give the fucking money back." Negan gestured and turned his head. He stared at Rick for a moment before locking his phone. Negan set it aside on the bed and moved, crawling toward Rick. "What would you do?" he murmured, dipping down to press a kiss to the inside of his knee.

Rick shivered, his toes curling. "You said you'd stop," he said, feeling like a damn broken record. "For something, someone, special. Is this it?"

Negan let out a loud sigh. "No." He laid down, in between Rick's legs with his face pressed to his stomach.

"What exactly will make you stop? You say that, but I don't think you know," Rick snapped. He squeezed his eyes closed almost immediately, lifting his hand to try and rub the expression off his face.

"Do you got a problem with me, Rick?" Negan asked quietly, face still to his stomach. He raised his head, looking up at Rick with a small frown. "Because it sounds like you got a problem with me."

Rick ran his fingers through his hair, shaking his head. "No, no, I don't have a problem. No."

"Then what is it, Rick? Please, tell me. I gotta know." Negan moved, hands resting on Rick's thighs as he pushed himself into a sitting position.

_For someone special. From the beginning._

Rick reached out, pressing his palms to either side of Negan's face. He stared at him for a moment, at Negan's narrowed eyes. "I… I know how all this takes a toll on you," he said. "I'm just, just worried how you're going to be if you go through with this."  _Nice save_. Rick dropped his hands, settling back.

Negan was silent, keeping his eyes on Rick, staring, staring,  _staring_ , but he didn't say anything. Instead, Negan leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to Rick's lips. He rolled, then, lying down next to him. "A fucking birthday party isn't that serious, Rick," he murmured. Negan closed his eyes. "I'll be fine."

This time, Rick was quiet. He slid down, lying properly on his back. Rick watched Negan, crossing his arms over his chest. "You wanna do this?" he asked.

Without opening his eyes, Negan turned, facing Rick. "Yeah. Last one."

"Should get some sleep, then. It's getting late."

"Do it with me." Rick turned his head, meeting Negan's eyes. "The party. The magic act. Be my fucking assistant."

Rick watched him, finding himself starting to smile. "Seriously?"

"Fucking seriously. Say yes."

He knew for a fact Negan's magic act would absolutely involve sending him through another damn portal. Rick remembered that first time, that claustrophobic, suffocating feeling. The times after weren't as bad, though it wasn't his favorite feeling in the world. Still, he could manage it. They would do this together.

"This is the only time," Rick said.

"Fucking last one," Negan repeated, nodding.

"Okay. Yes, I will." Rick smiled again. "Yeah, I'll be your… fucking assistant."

Negan grinned, laughed, and planted a loud, sloppy kiss on Rick's mouth. "Hell fucking yeah." He turned, then, making the bed springs creak. With his back to Rick, Negan sighed. "Little spoon," he said.

Rick pressed his lips together in a smile and rolled his eyes. He scooted over, wrapping an arm around Negan's middle and yanking him close. Rick left a kiss behind Negan's ear. "Take off your socks," he whispered.

"Bite me."

They kicked at each other for a bit, until Rick, the victor, managed to toss Negan's socks to the floor. "You asshole," Negan wailed, earning a pillow to his face.


	8. Chapter 8

Rick stood on the front porch, looking out into the yard, the road ahead, and tried to remember if he had ever driven past Negan's house before. It looked familiar. He might have. He looked over at Negan, currently in the driver's seat of his car, working on starting it up. The car sounded like it wanted to, but it never fully got there.

"Not performing well?" Rick teased. "How long has it been?"

Negan groaned and smacked his palms against the steering wheel. "A couple fucking years, Rick!" He got out of the car, his magician's cape draped over his shoulder still. Negan wrinkled his nose and pulled it off. He threw it in the back seat, along with the mask that was dangling from his pocket. Then, he stood there, hands on his hips. His leather jacket was unzipped, a faded Prince shirt underneath. "I will drive this piece of shit," he said.

Rick walked down the porch. "It's fine. I appreciate the effort."

Patting his jacket pockets, Negan looked around. "Effort isn't enough." He ducked into his car again, stretching to search in the glove box. Negan let out a laugh, resurfacing with a packet of cigarettes. He shook the pack, looking at Rick. "Want one?"

"We'll share."

Negan quirked a brow and took a cigarette out. He placed it in between his lips and flicked his thumb out in front of it, like a lighter. A small flame sprouted from his thumb and caught the end of the stick. Negan hummed and tossed the packet into the car. "Okay," he said, holding the cigarette in between his index and middle finger. "I'm gonna start this motherfucker. Warning, Rick. It's with my magic touch." Negan got into the car, door closing.

Rick shook his head and got in the passenger's seat. "I told you, the effort's appreciated." Rick shut the door and pulled on his seatbelt. "You'll be driving. That's enough."

"Not  _enough_  enough," Negan said, cigarette dangling from his lips. He slammed the dashboard a few times, head cocked to the side. After one good hit with his fist, the engine rumbled. Negan took the cigarette from his mouth and smiled at Rick. "Hell yeah." He reached around and pulled on his seatbelt, too, ashes falling onto his thigh.

Rick brushed them away. "Had to hit it that hard?"

"I know it'll work if I hit it hard." Negan took a drag and looked over at Rick, winking. Rick rolled his eyes and slipped the cigarette from his fingers. Taking a moment to adjust the mirrors, Negan laughed as he pulled out of the driveway.

"Where are we heading?"

"Park."

"Jeff's bringing the kids back around six," Rick said, blowing out smoke. "Need to be home a little before then. Make the house look like it hasn't been empty for a couple days." He handed the cigarette back to Negan.

"Want me to drive you home?" Negan asked. "Or fucking toss you through?" He smiled, lifting the cigarette to his lips. "I think I know the answer."

"Yeah, I bet you do," Rick mumbled, moving around in his seat. He wiped away the dust on the radio. "You really haven't touched this thing in a while."

"Didn't need to." Negan knocked ashes out the window. "Got around just fine on my own. Just had to make sure I was by myself. No… wandering eyes."

Rick pushed a few buttons, turning on the radio and fiddling with the dials. "If we're…  _this_ , then I don't want Carl and Judith to know about… you know."

"What the fuck is  _this_?" Negan offered the cigarette.

"Um, together. I mean, it's been a, a few weeks." Rick looked over at him, taking the cigarette. He took a drag, pausing to consider, and then blew the stream of smoke in Negan's face. "Are we together?"

Negan hummed, rubbing his palm into the steering wheel. "Rick, Rick, Rick. I'd like to be together." He glanced at him, a small smile on his face. "Wanna be my boyfriend?"

Rick sucked on the cigarette one more time before handing it back. "Are we making it official?"

"Yeah," Negan said softly. He opened up the ashtray, smashing the butt inside. "Be my boyfriend, Rick."

He smiled, too. "Okay, yeah. I'll be your boyfriend."

Negan continued to smile, the thing seeming to be a permanent fixture on his face. "Cool." He leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to Rick's cheek, before returning his eyes to the road. "I'll be your warlock boyfriend." He paused. "I'm fucking joking, by the way. I'll respect your wishes and not tell your kids. I won't tell them a fucking thing."

Rick went back to fiddling with the radio. "You might slip up one day. Better be careful."

"I'll be fucking fine. I told you, Rick. I'm cutting back now, and I'm gonna stop."

"For someone special," Rick murmured. He pushed a button, static coming through the speakers. From the corner of his eye, because he didn't dare look at him, Negan shifted in his seat, propping his head up with a fist. Rick chanced it, breathing in, then out. "From the beginning." He turned a dial, music starting to play.

Negan shook his head, rubbing his face. "Damn, Rick," he murmured. "You  _are_  fucking special."

Rick twisted the dial, songs cycling through fast.

"I just don't know how to show you how special you are to me."

His finger slipped, and the music blared. Rick grimaced, turned the volume down, and went a station over. Almost immediately, Negan smacked his hand against the steering wheel. "Fuck! Do you know this song, Rick?" He bounced a bit in his seat, head bobbing, shoulders moving.

Rick watched Negan, hoping he didn't look as ridiculous as he felt. He smiled and nodded, leaning back in his seat. "Yeah, I do."

"Sing with me. Come on." Negan waved a hand in the air. "Hey, pretty baby with the high heels on. You give me fever, like I never ever known."

"You're just a product of loveliness," Rick started, a bit reluctant, a bit laid back, a lot of swelling with adoration. "I like the groove of your walk, your talk, your dress." He reached out and grabbed Negan's hand. They sounded… awful.

Negan squeezed his fingers, swinging their hands around, in time with his shoulders. "I feel your fever from miles around."

Rick tugged on Negan's hand, pulling him closer. "I'll pick you up in my car and we'll paint the town." He loosened his grip, knowing that going all out with the song while driving wasn't a wise decision.

Negan seemed to have other ideas. He pulled on Rick's hand, swaying back and forth in his seat as they flew down the road. "Just kiss me, baby, and tell me twice"—Negan looked over at Rick, dancing as much as he possibly could—"that you're the one for me."

"The way you make me feel," Rick sang, gesturing with his free hand to make Negan look back ahead. "You really turn me on."

He shook his head, tugging on Rick's hand in response. "You knock me off of my feet," Negan sang, voice getting louder. He looked at Rick, taking his other hand off the wheel to point at him. "My lonely days are gone."

Rick rolled his eyes, pulling his hand out of Negan's hold. "I like the feeling you're giving me."

Negan frowned, pouting, and reached back over. "Just hold me baby, and I'm in ecstasy." He held Rick's hand, fingers sliding in the gaps.

"Oh, I'll be working from nine to five," Rick sang softly, smiling and shaking his head again. He rubbed his thumb over his fingers. "To buy you things to keep you by my side."

"I never felt so in love before." Negan turned their hands, pressing a kiss to Rick's knuckles. "Just promise, baby, you'll love me forevermore."

Rick tipped his head to the side. "I swear I'm keeping you satisfied, 'cause you're the one for me."

Again, Negan took his hand off the wheel to point at Rick. This time, for just a couple seconds, Rick entertained him, pointing right back. "The way you make me feel," they sang, grinning, laughing. Negan let go of Rick's hand, placing both back on the wheel. He turned, the park coming into view. "You really turn me on… You knock me off of my feet… My lonely days are gone."

He parked underneath the shade of a tree. Negan left the engine running, the radio playing, and unbuckled his seatbelt. He twisted in his seat, reaching for his cape and mask and dropping them into his lap. Rick pulled his own seatbelt off, crossing his arms over his chest and rolling his shoulders. "I never felt so in love before." He quirked a brow at Negan, at his dumb smile, and laughed, too. "Promise, baby, you'll love me forevermore."

Negan ran a hand through his hair, smiling with his tongue between his teeth. He took Rick's hands, freely pulling and turning him toward him. Negan danced in his seat again, mostly moving his shoulders and swaying. "I swear I'm keeping you satisfied, 'cause you're the one for me."

Rick moved, too, as much as he could, mirroring Negan. "The way you make me feel."

Chuckling, Negan let go of Rick's hands. He scooted, leaning over and setting a hand on the back of Rick's chair. "You really turn me on," he murmured, tilting his head to the side. Negan kissed him, lips already parted. Rick wanted to roll his eyes, tell Negan how remarkably cheesy and obnoxious they both were—Negan more so, of course—but he couldn't. Not now.

Slowly, Rick slid his hands up, touching Negan's neck. He kissed him back, hot, heavy, and again, and again. Rick pulled back, thumbs running along his skin, tips of noses touching. "Now, I haven't worked for the police department for a while," he said, swallowing, "but last I remember, if we escalate things, we could get into trouble." Rick looked down, ignoring Negan's eyes boring into him, and touched his jacket. He grabbed the lapels, holding Negan there. Rick breathed in and leaned back, staring at him.

Negan still had his hand resting on the back of Rick's seat. He watched him, and Rick watched him right back. The radio faded out to start a stream of advertisements. Negan turned his head and reached over, switching off the radio. He looked back at Rick, tipping his head. "You're retired, you said." His voice was low, as if they were exchanging some sort of secret. "How does that happen? What are you, fucking thirty?"

"Thirty-six, and you know I don't look thirty." Negan smiled, and Rick did, too.

"You're right, but I figured I could score some more fucking brownie points. Try and get in those pants one more time before you gotta leave." Negan moved his hand from the headrest, thumb stroking Rick's cheek. "Tell me what happened," he murmured.

Rick cleared his throat and lifted a hand, touching Negan's wrist. "I don't know if you ever saw it, but." He stopped, frowning. Rick shook his head, pulling Negan's hand away. "Don't we have somewhere to be? I'll tell you later."

Negan killed the engine, gathering his cape and mask in his arms. "Yeah, we do. Tell me while we walk. You can fucking whisper if it's confidential." He smiled, teasing. Negan looked down at the floor, narrowing his eyes. "I wanna smoke another cigarette, too. Over there. By your foot."

"You can't smoke in the park."

"We're in the fucking parking lot."

Rick tossed him the pack. "I've got a scar, left side of my abdomen." He studied Negan, who plucked out a cigarette, placing it in between his lips. Negan kept his eyes on Rick, flicking his thumb to light the cigarette. Rick wet his lips and scratched the back of his head. "I got shot."

"I never noticed," Negan mumbled. He opened up the car door, sliding out. Rick followed and lingered next to his open door. Negan set the cape and mask on the top of the car, slipping his jacket off his shoulders. He tossed it in the front seat. "Next time we screw," he said, cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth. Negan pointed at his eyes with two fingers, then pointed at Rick. "I'm gonna take a fucking gander." He held the cigarette in between his fingers, knocking away ashes, and grinned. "How'd you get it?" he asked. "If you wanna tell me, that is. That shit can be complicated." Negan stuck the cigarette back in his mouth, picking up the cape and wrapping it around him.

Rick shut the car door, setting his hands on his hips. "I got shot," he said again, walking around the car. "There was a chase, a standoff. Thought there was only one guy." Rick stood next to Negan, looking up at him. "That was… obviously wrong."

Negan watched him, brow furrowed. He turned his head to the side, blowing out smoke, away from Rick's face. Negan dropped his hand, letting his arm hang. "It scare the shit outta you? Make you wanna hang up the uniform?" He looked down at the cigarette, raised his hand, and offered it to Rick.

"Yeah, it scared the shit outta me. Was in a coma for a month." Rick took the cigarette. He stared at it for a moment before lifting it to his lips.

"Goddamn."

"Lori convinced me that… well, the cons seemed to outweigh the pros." Rick turned his head, too, blowing out smoke. He sighed, closing his eyes. "I didn't need much convincing. Like you said, scared the shit outta me." Rick scratched his cheek. "It worked out. Lori got a job as a secretary for this law firm. I stayed home and took Carl to school. Lori got pregnant. We had Judith." Rick glanced at Negan, then looked away.

Negan reached over, touching Rick's cheek. He turned his head, studying him. "It happened the way it was supposed to," he said softly. Negan held his gaze, slowly lowering his hand. Rick blinked once, twice, feeling his eyes start to prickle. He looked away again. Negan sighed, picking up his mask. "How's your hand? Haven't said anything about it."

Rick looked at his hand, tilting his head to the side. The bandage was gone, tossed out before he had a shower. It wasn't hurting as much. The occasional twinge was there, right in the center, where the pinprick nestled in his palm. Rick looked at Negan. "Almost forgot about it, until you mentioned it." He cocked an eyebrow.

"Shit yeah?" Negan slipped the cigarette from Rick's fingers. He moved, leaning into the car to smash it in the ashtray. Negan straightened up and shut the door. He pulled the mask over his face, fixing the thing until it rested properly. Negan lowered his hand, looking down at Rick. "I can probably wrap it up again."

The eyes behind the mask were dark. They weren't tired, but well-rested, refreshed. Rick smiled and adjusted the cape around Negan's shoulders. "I can do it myself, you know."

Negan leaned in, pressing his lips to Rick's forehead. "I know," he murmured. Then, he pulled back and turned on his heel, cape flowing behind him. "Let's knock this out of the fucking park, Rick."

*

"Ladies and gentlemen, children of all ages! My brave assistant has graciously volunteered. Before your very eyes… Richie here will  _disappear_!"

The kids cheered. Rick narrowed his eyes. Negan grinned.

Spinning around, cape giving an obnoxious twirl, he faced Rick, that proud smug smile on his lips. "Go stand in front of that curtain, lovely assistant." Then, Negan leaned in. "You know what to do," he murmured.

Rick tipped his head to the side, trying to match Negan's smile. He took a few steps back, toward the curtain. "Will I end up in a tree again?" he whispered.

"Yes… but not the same one." Negan glanced back at the small group of children. "Everybody say bye to Rick!"

Like the first time, as the children clapped and laughed, Negan pushed Rick through the curtain. Unlike the first time, Rick fell on his ass. He sat there for a moment, collecting himself, and cursed underneath his breath. As he stood, he fixed the gap in the curtain. Rick shook his hands, looking down at the stage's floor. The black X was there. He breathed in, then out. It'd be fine. He had done this a few times. He knew what to expect.

Slowly, the X began to widen. Instinctively, Rick stepped back.

"Shit, man, is that supposed to be happening?"

Rick widened his eyes and turned, seeing a teenager standing near one of the stage's doors. He had his hands clasped in front of him, fingers shaking. His hair was long, curled around his ears, matted, but despite the dark circles under his eyes, the clamminess to his skin, he smiled, even laughed. "I mean, that might be the shit I took, but  _god_." He laughed again, lifting his hands to run his fingers through his hair. "I'm really tripping."

"How'd you get back here? What's your name?" Rick walked toward him, leaving the growing portal behind him. "Where are your parents?"

"Watch it. Too many questions." He held his hands out in front of him. "I, I, oh God, it's a park. I can be here."

Rick placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing. "Look, I'm… not upset—"

"—just disappointed, right? My mom says that all the time."

Another squeeze. Rick began to walk them back. "Is your mom here?"

"Uh, maybe? We were all taking a walk, but I, uh, left them. Yeah." He rubbed his face. "I'm Nick. Didn't tell you before."

Rick took a steadying breath. He looked over his shoulder, at the portal on the floor, at the curtain. On the other side, there were still kids cheering and clapping. Negan might be wondering what was taking so long. Rick had a feeling Negan wasn't going to like this. He looked back at Nick, continuing to do their small trek back. "Hi, Nick. I'm Rick. Now, I need you to hold on to me. And I mean, really tight. Can you do that?"

"Uh."

"It'll be okay," Rick said, wrapping his arms around Nick. He cursed himself multiple times, wanted to kick himself, but he couldn't do much else. Could he tell Negan? Make him stop? Nick had already seen.  _Wait_ , Negan could, he could—

His heel hit the edge of the portal, Rick slipped, and they fell through the stage. The familiar darkness swallowed them up, and Nick's fingers dug into his sides.

"Holy fucking shit, man, what did you do?" he cried, squirming. "Oh, fuck, I'm never doing  _shit_  again."

Rick tightened his hold, turning them. "It'll be over soon. Just, just keep your eyes closed."

"I'm gonna fucking barf."

They were launched forward, from the prickling silence to the sounds of life. To the playground, kids screaming and playing, people chatting idly by, and to Nick falling out of the tree.

Rick managed to clutch to the tree, but he couldn't grab Nick's hoodie. The fabric passed through his fingers, and he dropped and curled up on the ground below.

"Holy fuck, dude."

"Stay right there!" Rick shouted and began to climb down. He jumped down once he got on a low enough branch and went to Nick's side. Around him, he could hear the applause, the amusement. Rick helped Nick into a sitting position. He tipped his head back, looking into his eyes. "Hey, look at me."

"What the fuck," Nick said, turned, and vomited.

Rick wrinkled his nose and rubbed at his back. He looked ahead, offering a smile at the retreating crowd of kids. "Don't worry, kids. He's fine. Trust me."

Nick wretched harder.

"I think." He frowned.

"What the fucking hell is this?" Negan moved through, stepping aside children. He stopped in front of Rick and Nick, looking down at them with his hands on his hips. His cape was askew, the mask still pulled over his eyes. "Who is this kid? Hey, kid, who are you?"

Nick sprawled out on his back, looking up at the sky. "I'm Nick."

Negan shook his head and looked over his shoulder. He waved a hand, shooing the kids beginning to get closer. "Nothing to see here. Run along and finish your party."

"But you only did one trick!"

"I'll refund your parents. Go." Without much complaint, the kids scattered, running off after each other. Negan turned his attention back to them and took off his mask. He stuck it in the back pocket of his jeans, crouching. He stared at Nick for a moment, nose wrinkled, and then at Rick. "What the hell happened?"

Rick roughly swallowed and looked down. Nick was still looking up at the sky. "Behind the curtain, I was there, I was ready, but he. He… He saw everything, Negan, and I didn't know what to do." Rick rubbed his face, smoothing his hair back. He sighed and looked over at Negan. "I figured you could… do that thing"—he waved his hand—"and, I dunno, make him forget." Rick frowned again. "I thought about that right before we went into that damn portal."

Below them, Nick made a choking sound. "A  _portal_. Oh, shit, seriously, man." Nick lifted his arms and pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. "I want my fucking mom."

Negan was quiet for a moment, lips pressed together. He scratched his cheek and looked ahead, straight past Rick. "Hey, kid. We'll find your fucking mom. Can you sit up? We can go over there." Negan pointed toward the picnic tables, Rick and Nick turning their heads to look.

"Yeah," Nick said, digging his elbows into the ground. He took his time sitting up, and, with the help of Rick and Negan, stood. They went over to the picnic area, sitting at the nearest table. Nick rested his forehead on the tabletop. Negan glanced at Rick, giving him the same tight-lipped stare. He untied the cape and slid it off his shoulders.

"Here, kid. Nick. Lift your head." Negan narrowed his eyes when Nick didn't react, and stretched out a hand, giving his cheek a smack. "Lift your head," he repeated. Nick jerked up, eyes wide, and stared at Negan. "Chill, you're fine." Negan folded up his cape and set it down on the table. "Pillow.  _Voila_."

Nick's head dropped again.

Negan looked at Rick, exhaling through his nose. Rick shook his head. "Don't look at me like that. Just do your thing, and we can find his mom."

"Is his mom even here, or did he fucking wander over after getting fucking high?"

"No, no, he told me she was here. They were taking a walk."

Negan rubbed the back of his neck. "I know I'm asking for a lot, kid, but lift your head again." Nick raised his head this time, almost immediately at the request. He looked across the table at Negan, brows furrowed. "You hurt any after falling from that tree?"

Nick shook his head. "No."

"Good, because I probably couldn't have fixed that." Negan cleared his throat and slid to the edge of his seat. He let his hand hover near Nick's face, tipping his head to the side as he studied him. "What do you think happened?"

Nick chewed on the inside of his cheek. He put his arms up on the table, wrapping them around the cape. "You said something about a portal," he said, looking between Rick and Negan. "We were… Rick… It was all dark, and, and, I was cold and couldn't breathe." Nick frowned. "That didn't really happen, did it?"

Negan smiled and pressed his fingertips to Nick's forehead. "That's right, kid. That didn't happen. You were on a stage. Fucking trapdoor."

"That… makes sense," Nick said, closing his eyes. Rick watched as he visibly relaxed in front of them. He glanced over at Negan, at the sad smile on his face.

"Yeah, it does, doesn't it, kid?" Negan pulled his hand back, curling his fingers into his fist.

Rick looked away, biting his lip. "I know that was difficult," he muttered.

_You put her through everything, she didn't like it, she found out, and you made her forget. Didn't you?_

"Shut the fuck up, Rick," Negan breathed out.

_Every single damn time. What the hell was the matter with her?_

Nick laid his head back on the cape, keeping his eyes closed. "I've got a fucking headache." He screwed up his face, nose wrinkling.

Negan laughed. "Yeah, it'll be like that for a while, kid." He let his hands rest in his lap and looked ahead. "Oh, shit. That your mom? The blonde?" Negan whistled. "Looks pissed."

"Ah, shit." Nick looked over his shoulder, staring at said blonde. He widened his eyes and looked across the table at Negan and Rick. "Yes. Fuck." He rubbed at his forehead. "Uh, I forgot what your names were. Unless… you never told me." Nick narrowed his eyes, looking at them again.

Rick sat up straighter. "Rick. I used to be a sheriff. We met when I was on duty once." He waved a hand at Negan. "Don't worry about him."

Negan nodded. "Yeah. Don't worry about me. But, hey, if I were you, kid, I'd lay off whatever shit you took. At least for your mom's sake."

Nick continued to stare at them, as he stood. He touched the cape, pinching the fabric. "Okay. Um." Nick pushed the cape across the table. "I don't think this is mine."

"Yeah, it is." Negan pat the cape. "You keep it. I don't need it anymore. Plus, I think you got some fucking vomit on it."

"Nick! What are you doing?"

"Mom, heeeeey." Nick grabbed the cape and held it to his chest, turning around to face her. "I don't know what I'm doing."

Rick stood up and froze as the woman got closer. He raised his brows. "Madison?"

She stopped next to Nick and stared, giving Rick the same look. Then, she offered a small smile. "Rick? Christ, I almost didn't recognize you. It's been years."

"It has, yeah."

"Sorry, I didn't come to—"

"—no, it's fine. You didn't have to."

"You gonna introduce me, Richie?" Negan asked, head propped up on a fist.

Rick glanced down at Negan. "Oh, sorry. I, well, this is Maddy. We're cousins, went to high school together. Haven't really stayed in touch after we both left." Rick looked at Nick, then back at her. "I didn't know this was your Nick. I've only seen baby pictures."

Madison smiled, shrugged. "This is him. I have a daughter, too. Alicia. She's with some friends right now. God, your son, what was his name?"

"Carl."

"Yeah, he must be about Alicia's age now. And your daughter… I mean, how is she?"

"She's fine. Judith's fine." Rick hesitated. "She doesn't—"

"—I get it."

"How's Steven?" he asked, but as soon the question tumbled out, he saw Nick start to shake his head. Rick furrowed his brow and shook his own head. "Sorry, forget I said that."

Still, Madison held her smile. "What was Nick doing here?"

"We found him sitting under a tree. Was a bit dizzy, he said. I think he just got too hot, or something." Rick set a hand on his hip. "He's fine now."

She stared at him, eyes narrowing. "Okay," she said, stretching out a hand and squeezing Nick's arm. "I told you not to wear that sweatshirt."

Nick rubbed at an eye. "Yeah, you did. Sorry."

"Thanks for watching him. I was talking to a friend, and didn't notice he'd left."

Rick shrugged. "It wasn't a problem. I'm… sure you'd have done the same if my kid wandered off."

Madison smiled, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. She nudged Nick, a hand on his back. "Thanks again. Have a good day, Rick."

"You too. Maybe we'll see each other again."

"Maybe."

"See ya, Madison," Negan said.

Nick, clutching the bundled cape to his chest, let his mom guide him down the path. Rick watched them for a moment before sitting back down. He looked ahead, hands resting on the table.

"Family's weird," Negan mumbled.

_A family doesn't ask questions if they don't fucking know who you are_.

Rick felt a deep ache in his palm, and he rubbed at it.

Next to him, Negan shifted, leaning to the side and taking the mask out of his pocket. He was quiet, and Rick watched from the corner of his eye, as he kept the mask balanced in his hand. There was a second's pause, and then a small fire sprouted, licking and catching the fabric. Negan closed his fist around it and looked ahead, too.

Rick wet his lips. "That hurt?"

"Yeah. Everything's starting to hurt." Negan opened his fist and tipped his hand, dropping ashes on to the tabletop. He rubbed fingers into the surface, the ashes turning into nothing. "You thought of that pretty quick. You really see that kid when you worked?"

"No, I didn't. I figured he'd believe anything we told him right then." Rick felt Negan's eyes on him, but he didn't look. "I didn't like doing it. It had to be done. What else could we have done?"

"Sometimes, Rick, I wish you didn't know me."

Rick turned his head, meeting Negan's eyes. There was something on his face, something Rick couldn't explain. "Would it make things easier?"

"Probably. But… I wouldn't be able to fuck you, so I can get over it." Negan smiled, hands smacking the picnic table. "Let's go. Like I said, wanna roll around with you one more time before you gotta leave." Negan stood and started down the same path Madison and Nick took.

He sat there, lingering, watching Negan walk, hands shoved into his pockets. His shoulders weren't relaxed. His steps seemed too heavy. Rick curled his fingers into a fist, tapped the picnic table, and got up. He caught up with Negan, who draped an arm over his shoulders at his arrival. Rick wrapped his around his waist.

"Ain't nobody's business but mine and my baby," Negan sang.


	9. Chapter 9

When Negan pulled Rick through the front door, fingers catching on shirt buttons and toes smashing against toes, they didn't even wait to get in the bedroom. He pushed Rick to the wall, mouthing against his neck.

"God."

"Fuck."

Negan untucked Rick's shirt, pushing it off his shoulders. He leaned his head against Rick's, looking down and studying him in the dim hallway. Negan smoothed his fingers down Rick's chest, skimming along the scar. "There it is," he murmured.

Rick tipped his head back, thudding against the wall. He closed his eyes and swallowed. "Yeah."

"I want to remember everything about you." Negan dropped to his knees, leaving kisses against his stomach. He dragged his lips over, pressing the flat of his tongue to the scar.

Rick lowered his hand, touching the back of Negan's head. He grabbed a fistful of hair. "Don't. You don't have to do that." Negan kissed the scar again, then his ribs, the spot below his navel.

"What did it feel like?" Negan asked, hands running up his sides.

"Like fire."

"You said you were in a fucking coma." Negan stood, narrowing his eyes. "You made it sound like it was nothing. No big fucking deal."

Rick watched Negan, smiling softly. "I'm awake now," he murmured, sliding his hand down to cup the back of Negan's neck. "I don't like thinking about it. So many things could have gone wrong. I'm here now. And I, I think right where I need to be." He rubbed his thumb along the curve of his neck. "Maybe."

Negan leaned in, kissing Rick. First, slow, sweet, until it wasn't. Hands tugging, noses mashing, lips feeling like they were going to bruise. "Fucking maybe," Negan breathed out. "Bedroom. I need to fucking get off now."

_One more time_  turned into three, but all of them ended with Negan and Rick kissing away moans and holding shaky hands.

Next to him, as they lay in the dark room, Negan lifted his hands to his face, fingers curling and trembling. "Oh, hell. You have ruined me."

"I need to go."

Negan was quiet. He moved, and Rick felt the bed dip as he scooted closer. A scratchy kiss was pressed to his shoulder. "I don't want you to go," Negan murmured. Rick turned his head and watched him, those dark eyes shiny. Carefully, Rick lifted a hand to touch Negan's cheek. Negan sighed and nosed against his fingers. "Have I ever mentioned how I'm really fucking selfish?"

Rick smiled. "Once or twice, I think." He lowered his hand, running the backs of his fingers down Negan's arm. He felt goosebumps. "I like being with you. I haven't seen my kids in a couple days, though, and Carl hates talking on the phone." Rick looked down, taking one of Negan's hands. He squeezed his fingers, bending them.

"Can I meet them? One day. I mean"—Negan blew out a stream of air—"your girl still thinks I'm Mr. Peacock, and that shit won't fly now." He passed his thumb across Rick's knuckles.

"Peacocks can fly." Rick glanced at Negan from the corner of his eye, biting back a smile.

"Rick, you fucking piece of shit." Negan laughed and leaned in, kissing him. He pulled his hand back to run fingers through Rick's hair. They kissed for a bit, nothing concrete in mind, just the pressing of lips.

Negan looked down at Rick again, humming. "Seriously, though."

"Seriously what?"

"Can I meet your fucking kids? I want them to meet their daddy's boyfriend." Negan smiled.

Rick sat up, pressing his hand to Negan's face. "Stop that." He rolled his shoulders, scratching the back of his hand. Negan sat next to him, fingers lightly petting down his spine. Rick closed his eyes. "Yeah, you can meet them. Not today, though. Give it a couple days, maybe."

"Fine by me." Negan dipped his head down, kissing Rick's shoulder, the side of his neck.

Rick rubbed at his thighs. "I really gotta go. They'll be home soon."

"You'll be home soon," Negan said, lips to his ear. "Take a shower. You'll feel better."

Rick sighed, leaning into Negan. "No funny business," he whispered.

"No funny business," Negan repeated in that same hushed tone.

Under that definition, Negan didn't include handjobs, it seemed, which Rick found out the hard way—when Negan was supposed to be rinsing out his hair, and instead reached around to grab his cock.

"Just a quick one," he muttered.

Rick arched into his hand. "Do whatever you want to me."

"It'll be quick," Negan whispered against the side of Rick's face.

He nodded, hanging his head and squeezing his eyes shut. Breathing in, Rick looked over his shoulder, giving his hips a small rock. "Where's your cock?" he mumbled, touching Negan's wrist and pulling it away.

"In between my fucking legs. Where it's always been."

"Shut the hell up," Rick hissed, pushing Negan against the wall. He kissed him, lowering his hand to take Negan's cock. He stroked, and Negan's hands lowered again. They didn't miss a beat, kissing, eyes closed, moving to bring the other over the edge first.

Rick let out a shaky breath, warmth and nerves collecting in his stomach, his chest. He moved to kiss Negan again, lips landing off the mark, underneath the curve of his mouth. "I'm thinking about something bad," he muttered.

"Don't fucking say it," Negan sighed. He tipped his head to the side, kissing Rick again and again. His hips gave a shake, his hand a jerk. "Because I bet I'm thinking it, too."

They kept quiet, then, the only things leaving their lips were the sounds of their orgasms. After, hands shaking, Negan cradled the back of Rick's head, fingers sliding into the locks, the neglected shampoo suds. He pulled Rick closer as they collected themselves, through absent kisses and occasional shivers.

Rick stood on the tips of his toes to lean his head against Negan's, eyes closed. He held onto his arms, grip tightening, and wrinkled his nose when the ache in his palm made itself known. Rick settled down, stepping away. "Wash my hair again," he said.

Negan placed a hand on the back of Rick's neck. He turned him to the spray and pushed his head under. Rick lifted his hands to cover his eyes, but he still felt like he was drowning.

Once dried off and clothed, Negan kept Rick by the sink to wrap up his hand. Rick curled his fingers, uncurled, wiggled, flexed them. The pain was manageable, almost unnoticeable. It only seemed to flare up when he hadn't thought about it in a while.  _Remember me?_

Rick went back into the bedroom and made sure he had everything. To be fair, he hadn't brought much in the first place. Rick combed through the hair at the nape of his neck, already feeling it start to curl. The light in the bathroom switched off, and Negan stood next to him. Rick dropped his hand and stared, wetting his lips. "Back there, I, I don't know what—"

"—hey," Negan said softly. He shook his head and slid an arm around Rick, palm pressed to his back. "You don't need to say anything." He leaned in, kissing his forehead. "I know."

Rick breathed in through his nose, out through parted lips. "Okay."

"Hey, Rick. Close your eyes."

"What for?" Rick humored him, though, shutting his eyes and lifting his chin. The hand on his back left.

"Tell Judith I bet those tigers were fucking cool."

_Crack._

Rick opened his eyes and stared at Negan, at that smile and those tired eyes. He glanced over his shoulder to see a portal, open and ready, and Rick looked back at him. "You fucking—"

"—I love you, too." Negan reached out, gave Rick a push, and to ensure he did fall on his ass, hooked a leg around to catch the heel of Rick's foot. As Rick tumbled back, hands reaching to grab a hold of  _something_ , Negan stepped away and gave a small wave. "Text me!"

The portal closed with a pop, and Rick was greeted to that damned darkness. He wasn't in it for long, and he landed in his living room, practically toppling onto the coffee table. Rick caught himself, but not before banging one of his shins against a corner. He doubled over, clutching at his leg, and hopped until he reached the couch.

"Holy  _shit_."

His head was still catching up to the rest of him, his shin was throbbing, and did Negan really say that?

There was a knock at the door, a frantic thing, and Rick thought he also heard the sound of jumping on the other side. He stood, carefully putting weight on his leg, and walked over to the window. Rick peeked out, furrowing his brow. He watched as Judith bounced on her heels, Carl and Jeffrey standing behind her and not stopping her in the slightest. In Jeffrey's arms was Bonnie. Rick fixed the curtains, a smile on his face, and opened up the door. "Hey!"

Judith flew toward him, and Rick crouched in time to catch her. She laughed in his ear, and Rick held her close. "Daddy!"

"Did you miss me?" Rick pulled back and smoothed her hair out of her face.

"Yes!" Judith gave his cheek a kiss before running off.

Rick straightened up, wincing, laughing. "What about you?"

Carl stared at him. "Are you asking if I missed you?"

"Yeah."

"Oh yeah, definitely missed you." Carl walked inside and moved past Rick.

"I heard that sarcasm, but I'm taking what I can get," Rick called over his shoulder. He looked back at Jeffrey, stepping forward to take Bonnie from him. "Thanks for having them, and taking them to the zoo. The way Judith talked on the phone, she had a fun time." Rick pet one of Bonnie's ears.

Jeffrey rubbed the back of his neck. "It was nice. Uh, I totally didn't let Judy watch me and Carl play a really violent video game, by the way."

Rick narrowed his eyes.

"I didn't! I thought she'd gone to bed, and then I heard her giggling from the corner. She's sneaky."

"It's fine, Jeff." Rick shook his head and shifted Bonnie in his arms. "You're paying for her therapy sessions."

"Fair enough."

Rick reached out and touched the side of Jeffrey's face, patting his cheek, ruffling his hair. "Thanks again."

Jeffrey took the coddle, only giving Rick an eye roll. "No problem, Richie. What'd you do to occupy yourself? If I were you, I'd sleep. Be dead to the world for a couple days, then resurface. Reborn."

"Shut up, Jeffrey." Rick gave his ear a tug before pulling his hand back. "But I… relaxed. The house was pretty quiet. It was like no one was home."

"That's fucking sad, Richie." Jeff frowned, shaking his head. "I gotta go. We should get together soon. Have dinner or something."

Bonnie squirmed in his arms. Rick held on tighter. "You know, I saw Maddy earlier."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, and I met Nick. He's… tall?"

"Tall?"

"And a bit of a, a junkie."

Jeffrey laughed. "Oh man. That sucks!"

Rick reached over and tried to smack Jeffrey, who easily stepped away with another laugh. "It's not funny."

"I know! I know it isn't. The Maddy I remember in high school had a bit of a wild streak. Funny how—"

"—don't finish that sentence."

Jeffrey set his hands on his waist, sighing. "Okay, okay." He paused. "Should we invite them to this hypothetical dinner?"

"We could. Let's consider."

"Cool. I should get going. I've… stood in your doorway long enough. You've got a rabbit in your arms, and a hickey on your neck you forgot to hide."

Rick widened his eyes and lifted a hand to touch his neck. "No, I don't."

"Yeah, other side. There you go." Jeffrey pressed his lips together, trying to hold back a smile. "Cold spoon."

"Cold spoon. Bye, Jeffrey."

"House was pretty quiet, huh?"

" _Bye_ , Jeffrey."

"Bye, Rick."

Jeffrey left, and Rick closed the door. He stared at the doorknob, narrowing his eyes.  _Negan_. He hadn't said anything. Maybe he didn't see it, think it even mattered. Judith wouldn't understand, but Carl? Had Carl seen? Rick resisted the urge to rub at his neck, knowing it would only make it worse.

Rick went into Judith's room, seeing her on the floor, dolls piled close. He set Bonnie down, the rabbit moving toward her cage. "Hey there."

"Hi."

"Are you hungry? Want anything?"

"I'm good. Uncle Jeffrey got us McDonald's before we left."

Rick touched the doorframe, leaning against it. "I talked to Mr. Peacock today. I told him about the zoo."

Judith looked at him, eyes widening. "And the tigers?"

"Yes, and the tigers. He said that must have been pretty cool to see."

Smiling, Judith looked back at her toys. She moved a doll closer to Bonnie, making it sit next to her. "It was cool."

Rick pushed off, arms over his chest. "If you need anything, just holler."

"Mmkay."

He made his way down the hall to check on Carl, but he heard the shower running. Rick turned back and decided not to do the obnoxious thing and knock down the door. Carl could wait.

Rick went into the kitchen and pulled open a drawer. He took a spoon out, turned it over in his hands, and put it in the freezer. Rick stood there, waiting, and slipped his phone out of his pocket. He slid his thumb across the screen before tapping to his messages.

6:26 PM

Thanks for the fucking hickey

6:26 PM

Oh and the busted shin. Portal wasn't part of the plan!!!

6:31 PM

RICK! I was always intending to push you through. Your face cracks me the fuck up.

6:32 PM

How can you always look so surprised

6:33 PM

Hickey though? Unintentional. Must have gotten fucking carried away.

6:35 PM

Yeah well my brother saw

6:36 PM

Hahahahahahahahaha

Rick stuck his phone in his back pocket and took the spoon out of the fridge. He carefully pressed it to his neck, jumping a bit at the touch. Rick tipped his head to the side and read a school lunch menu hanging on the fridge. It was yellowed, and from last school year. In the corner, Judith had drawn a flower.

"Dad?" Rick flinched, looking over and seeing Carl standing in the doorway. His hair was wet, pajamas on, and he stared at Rick with a furrowed brow. "What are you doing?"

Rick cleared his throat and waved the spoon. "I was getting some ice cream for me and Judith. Did you want some?"

Carl was quiet, narrowing his eyes as he watched him. "No, thanks." He walked past Rick and moved him out of the way with the fridge door. Carl ducked inside and grabbed a pop, then kicked the door shut. "Next time, get a hickey below the collar. No one will know."

"I, I, Carl—"

"—no need to thank me." Carl opened up the can. "Fun weekend?" He took a sip.

Rick sighed. "Carl, I. Yes, yes, it was a fun weekend. Happy?"

Carl shrugged. "Kinda gross. Am I gonna meet them?"

"Soon, I think."

"It's not that Mr. Whatever Judy talks about, is it? The one who gave her the rabbit. The… magician."

Rick chuckled, held the spoon back to his neck, and gave a slow nod. "Yeah, it is. The magician. Is that a problem?"

Carl made a face and shook his head. "No. I just thought you were too old for magic tricks." He smiled and lifted the pop can to take another drink. Carl left then, and Rick wondered how long it took him to come up with that.

He stayed in the kitchen, spoon to his neck, and got a bowl out from the cabinet, another spoon. Judith and he could still have ice cream. She never said no to ice cream.

*

7:56 PM

Carl saw it too by the way. Said it should be below the collar next time.

8:04 PM

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA Holy shit

8:05 PM

I'll do better next time Richard. Hold me to it.

8:13 PM

:)

8:15 PM

;)

*

That night, Rick laid in bed with two blankets pulled to his chin. The room was dark, and it was raining. He alternated between listening to the rain and thunder, and replying to Negan.

11:24 PM

Miss you

11:25 PM

Miss you more

11:27 PM

Bed's cold

11:28 PM

Want me to pop on over?

11:29 PM

You said you'd stop that

11:29 PM

:P

11:30 PM

I think tonight will be okay.

11:32 PM

It was last night. Tonight will be too.

11:33 PM

Yeah.

11:37 PM

Did you mean what you said

11:37 PM

Right before I left

11:38 PM

Well not left, more like pushed away

11:40 PM

Hah, you were seriously pushed away

11:41 PM

Negan

11:41 PM

Yes I meant it.

11:42 PM

Why did you say too? I love you too? I didn't say it first.

11:45 PM

You didn't have to say it. I knew. That's what you were thinking about when we were getting off.

11:46 PM

I thought you said you couldn't read minds

11:46 PM

Or I'm just being an ass right now and fucking assuming that's what you wanted to tell me. Might have been projecting or some shit.

11:47 PM

Rick

His heart was in his throat. Rick swallowed, chewing a hole into the inside of his cheek, and dragged his thumb across the phone screen. In a manner of ill-thought seconds, Rick pressed the phone to his ear and looked up at the ceiling.

Lightning flashed, thunder rumbled, and Negan picked up. "What's going on, babe?"

"I love you," Rick said, the words tumbling out. He rubbed his face. "I just wanted to tell you that."

There were a few seconds of quiet where Negan didn't say anything, but Rick could hear movement, a bed creaking. "I love you, too, Rick," Negan said softly. "I really do. You're special."

Rick lowered his hand. "Special," he repeated. Turning his head, Rick stared at the clock. Midnight.

"Yeah." He could hear the smile in Negan's voice. "I wish I could pop over there and show you how special you are."

Rick rolled his eyes. "Oh, yeah. Maybe later."

"Planning on it."

A door opened. Rick glanced toward his closed one, listening. Another door was shut, and Rick guessed it was Carl going to the bathroom. He turned over in bed, yawning. "It's late," he mumbled.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. You'll tell me if anything happens?"

"It's all quiet here, Rick. Get some sleep. I love you."

Rick buried his face in the pillow. "I love you, too."

The call ended. Rick lifted his head and looked at the screen. He stretched to set the device on the nightstand, plugging in the charger. Rick turned again, lying on his back.

There was movement again. This time, it moved from the bathroom to the kitchen. Cabinets were opened, closed. Rick pushed himself out of bed and opened up the door. He poked his head out. "Carl. Bed."

Another cabinet closed. "Sorry, Dad."

"It's fine. Just… get to bed." Rick shut the door and moved back to bed. He crawled underneath the covers and wrapped his arms around a pillow.

As Rick laid there, trying to fall asleep, his phone vibrated. He lifted his head, squinting in the dark and leaning over to read the screen.

12:13 AM

Sweet dreams

12:14 AM

:)

*

Rick dreamed of Negan's hands on him, grabbing his sides and rolling them around in the bed. One second he wasn't there, and the next he was, feeling up Rick and rubbing his hard cock against his hip. Rick gasped and shuddered, and woke up with a jerk.

He sat up in bed, pushing back his hair and kicking away the blankets. Never sleep with more than one blanket. Too sweaty. Rick settled against the headboard, clearing his throat, and narrowed his eyes at the clock. Five-thirty. Carl needed to be up in an hour.

Guilty. That's what he felt. A dream was just a dream, and he wanted Negan to stop using magic. Negan wanted to stop—it was wearing him down, and it wasn't worth it. Yet, here he was, his subconscious practically drooling at the opportunity to have Negan anytime he wanted. In a few seconds, he could be here and—no.

Rick got out bed, covers trailing onto the floor. He was quiet as he went into the bathroom, showered, and definitely didn't think about Negan.


	10. Chapter 10

The next few days were slow and uneventful. The last he'd seen Negan, he was grinning as Rick fell through that damned portal. The last he spoke to him, though, was that morning.

"Don't forget to change your bandages."

Promptly, Rick began to tear at the bandage. He had changed it before he'd gone to bed, but his reaction was immediate. Rick turned his hand over, flexing his fingers. "Change 'em everyday," he said, holding his phone in between his ear and shoulder. Rick leaned across the bed and dropped the bandage on the nightstand.

"Right. Still got that stigmata?"

"What?" Rick asked, straightening up, and stared at the mark on his palm. He frowned. "I don't think that's the right word."

Negan laughed. "You still got it, then?"

"It hasn't changed much. Not as red. Only hurts once in a while, and when it does, it's this… deep muscle ache."

"Yeah."

"Is it gonna go away?"

"Honestly, Rick, I have no fucking idea. I'm sorry you gotta live with that shit."

Rick shook his head and lowered his hand. "It doesn't compare to what you lived with, though," he mumbled.

"You're right, Rick."

"How are you? How is… well, that?"

"I'm good, Rick. Everything is good and quiet."

"That's good," he said, smiling. "I'm glad."

"Should have done it sooner."

"Over and done with. No more shouldas, wouldas, or couldas."

"Excuse me?" Negan laughed. Rick held the phone closer. "Have I ever told you that Kentucky twang gets me off?"

"Shut up." Rick stood up, switching the phone to the other ear. He walked around the bed and picked up the bandage, crushing it in his hand. "Tell me." Rick opened the door and walked down the hall, stopping in the bathroom to toss the bandage.

"That Kentucky twang gets me the fuck off, Rick."

He huffed out a breath, smiling. "It better. I'll talk to you later."

"Hopefully we'll do more than fucking talk."

Rick ended the call and slipped his phone into his pocket. He went into the kitchen, where Carl and Judith were already at the table, eating breakfast. Rick ran fingers through Judith's hair as he passed, grabbing the box of Frosted Flakes. "Good morning." He leaned against the counter, opening the cereal.

"Bonnie told me she wants strawberries for breakfast," Judith said, mouth full with Cheerios.

Shaking his head, Rick set the cereal box aside and wiped his hands on his pants. "Let's see if there're any strawberries in the fridge."

*

1:34 PM

Any plans?

1:42 PM

I'm at the park with Judy

1:43 PM

You?

1:57 PM

That's cool too

Turning his phone in his hands one more time, Rick slipped the thing into his back pocket. He crossed his arms over his chest and looked ahead, watching Judith chase another girl around the slides.

"Hey."

Rick turned his head, narrowed eyes softening when he saw Negan. He smiled and looked back ahead. "Hey."

Negan stood next to Rick, crossing his own arms, mimicking him. "What's going on? Park stuff?" He lowered his arms, then, letting them hang.

"Yeah." Rick glanced at him. "You look tired."

"I drove here." When Rick huffed out a laugh, Negan nudged him. "I fucking did. I wanted to swing by your place later, but I don't know where you fucking live, so." He waved a hand. "I know where the park is."

Rick wet his lips and smiled again. "Okay."

"I stayed up a bit last night. Thinking."

"Dangerous thing to do."

Negan rolled his eyes and draped an arm over Rick's shoulders. He stuck his other hand in his pocket. "I'm telling the truth. Did you and the little gal walk here? I can drive you back home. Hang around for a bit." He smiled, raising a brow. "How does that sound?"

Rick watched Judith push the girl in the swing, the two of them giggling. The weight of Negan's arm was comfortable. He looked up at him. "It sounds… good."

"The hesitation hurts, Rick." Negan lowered his arm, patting the space in between his shoulders. "Haven't seen each other in days. Thought you'd be a bit more excited. Enthusiastic. Whatever."

"I know. I was thinking about Judith, and." Rick paused, chewing on his lip.

Negan began to lightly scratch at his back. "And…?"

"Keep doing that."

"Fucking unbelievable."

"How about this, Judith is gonna get tired soon, and she'll run over and beg for something. Probably ice cream. It's usually ice cream." Rick shrugged. "Take us for ice cream, then drive us home. We can hang out a bit, and you can meet Carl."

Negan let his hand drop, fingers trailing and nails dragging down. He studied Rick. "What about after?" he asked softly.

"Wanna stay for dinner?"

Negan smiled, teeth showing, and looked ahead. "Yeah. I'd like that." He reached over, lightly touching Rick's arm, squeezing. "Hey, Rick, can I kiss you?"

He laughed, smiled, and looked back at Negan. "Seriously?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah, okay. Kiss me. A quick one."

Negan continued to smile and leaned in, lips pressing to Rick's, short, sweet. He pulled back, then, and gave Rick a look, lightly touching his cheek. "How was that?"

"It was nice. Thanks for asking first."

"I'm such a fucking gentleman."

"You're ruining the moment," Rick teased, shaking his head and turning away. He looked ahead, Judith and her playmate hugging before she ran off toward her parents. Judith waved and made her way over to Rick, deciding that playing any longer wasn't worth it if she was alone.

Rick crouched down and scooped Judith in his arms. He held her on his hip. "Done playing for today?"

"Uh huh."

"Remember him, Judy?" Rick tipped his head to the side, to Negan.

Judith stared at Negan, a hand to her mouth as she began to smile. "Peacock!"

Negan laughed. "That's right, little lady." He reached out, ruffling her hair. She giggled. Negan lowered himself, getting to her level. "Can I tell you something, though? That's not my actual name."

Judith widened her eyes.

"I know. It's pretty dang shocking. Peacock's so normal, right?"

Rick cleared his throat.

Negan rubbed his forehead. "Can you say Negan? That's my name."

With her hand still to her mouth, Judy quietly said, "Negan."

He reached up and rubbed her arm. "There you go, sweetheart. Now, your daddy said something about ice cream. Would that be something you're into?"

Judith grinned, jumping a bit in Rick's arms. Rick tightened his hold and switched her to his other hip. "I guess that settles it."

Negan took his car keys out of his pocket and jingled them. "Let's go, then." He turned on his heel, and they walked out of the park.

"Thank you, Negan."

Twirling his keys on his finger, Negan smiled at Judith. "You're welcome, darling. But you should wait and thank me until after you get that ice cream." He winked and looked at Rick. He stepped closer, giving his arm a nudge. Rick nudged him right back.

*

"You got a little—"

"—huh? What?"

"Don't  _freaking_  move, Rick. Let me—" Negan leaned in, tongue dragging across the corner of his mouth. He pulled back with a laugh. "Mm, all gone."

Rick reached over and shoved Negan's shoulder, lifting his other hand to wipe his mouth. "Didn't have to do that." He dropped his hand and looked over at him. "You're gross."

Negan pinched him. "Yeah, I am." He picked up Rick's hand, fingers sliding in the gaps. Negan turned to look at the television, and then down at the floor, at Judith and Bonnie. She was feeding her carrots, small sliver after small sliver. Rick watched them for a moment before looking over at Negan and feeling, not for the first time, absolute adoration at the faint smile on his face.

"You gotta stop doing that," Rick mumbled, shaking his hand out of Negan's hold. He picked up their bowls of ice cream, reaching around Judith to get her own, and went into the kitchen.

"Doing what?" Negan asked, standing up and following Rick. He hovered in the doorway, narrowing his eyes.

Rick tossed the bowls into the trash can and turned, facing Negan with his hands on his hips. "You know what," he said. "Making my heart race."

Negan set a hand on his chest, leaning back. "Rick, I had no idea." Slowly, he smiled.

"Mr. Negan!" Judith called.

Before Rick could say anything else, not that he was about to with that look on Negan's face, Negan spun around and went back into the living room. "What is it, Judith?" he asked, crouching next to her and stroking one of Bonnie's ears.

"Wanna hear about the zoo?"

No hesitation in his voice, Negan sat down, crossing his legs, and smiled at Judith. "Yeah, I wanna hear about the zoo! What was your favorite animal?" He picked up Bonnie, setting her in his lap.

Rick walked to the couch and sat down, hiding his smile behind a hand. There it was again: a flutter.

*

"So, you're the magician?"

"Hell yeah."

"Little old for that, don't you think?"

Carl and Negan stood there, eyes narrowed. Negan pressed his lips together, but Carl, slouched and expression indifferent, wasn't giving him anything. Negan sniffed, rolled his shoulders, and pointed. "Got something on your shirt." Carl looked down, and Negan brought his hand up, flicking Carl on the nose. "Gotcha."

Rolling his eyes, Carl stepped around Negan, looking at Rick who was loitering in the kitchen. "Is he staying for dinner?"

Rick bit back a smile, giving a small nod. "Yeah."

Negan moved behind Carl and set his hands on his shoulders, shaking him. "Got a deck of cards? I'll show you a trick or two."

Carl groaned. Rick turned away to hide his smile, and busied himself with dinner.

Later that evening, Rick and Negan sat on the front porch, on the steps. It was starting to rain. Negan lit a cigarette with his thumb. "I like Carl," he said, blowing out smoke.

Rick hummed. "He wasn't nearly as aggressive as I thought he'd be." He looked over, smiling. "You could lay off with the magic jokes."

"Hey, that little shit started it." Negan pointed at Rick.

"Don't call my son that." Rick reached over and shoved on his shoulder, laughing. Negan didn't fight back, letting Rick push him into the porch's railing, laughing too, with the cigarette dangling between his lips.

He reached over, taking the cigarette away. Rick stuck it in between his own lips and shook his head. "Gotta stop smoking these," he told Negan after blowing out a stream in his face. Rick swallowed and looked ahead, at a passing car. "And get a lighter. Don't use your fucking finger."

Rick expected a comeback snapped right at him, but none came. He lowered the cigarette, knocking ashes off the porch, and looked over at Negan. Still leaned against the railings, he watched Rick with a smile, a small one. They sat there, Rick waiting and Negan doing God knows what. Finally, Negan tipped his head back, hitting it against a rail. He didn't look away from Rick. "So, it does fucking bother you," he said.

"I—" was Rick's immediate reply, but he didn't say anything else. He pressed his lips together and glanced down. Rick smashed the cigarette next to his feet. Truth be told, it did bother him, but this was  _Negan_ , and he wasn't going to make him change just because they were in  _love_.  _Hide it, say something about the kids._

"Negan, look, it's just." If he thought Rick was "special enough", he would have never kept this going so long.

_You are fucking special._

"Carl and Judith—"

"—don't give me a bullshit excuse," Negan said, straightening up. He grabbed the cigarette still in between Rick's fingertips and tossed it in the yard. "It fucking bothers me, too, Rick." Negan rubbed his face, sighing. He stayed there, hands covering his face, toes pointed inward.

Rick wet his lips, looking down, away, anywhere but Negan. His eyes fell on him, though, despite the resisting. Rick touched his arm, squeezed, and leaned, resting against him. "Negan," he said softly. "It's fine. It's just a cigarette."

Negan dropped his hands and looked down at him. "It's a lot of tiny shit that adds up." He frowned, just for a moment, and dipped down, giving Rick a kiss. "But thanks for trying to make me feel better," he mumbled, nose to Rick's.

"It's what I'm here for."

"I'm gonna get out of here."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

He stared at Negan's arm, rubbing his palm again his jacket sleeve. "Okay." Rick looked at him, putting on a smile. "Text me when you get home?"

Negan nodded, then leaned in again, giving Rick another kiss. This one lingered, and made Rick want to push Negan back on the porch and climb on top of him. But he didn't, though by the look in Negan's eye, he knew exactly what Rick was thinking. He said nothing, only smiled, and pressed a last kiss to Rick's forehead. "I'll miss ya."

Rick slid an arm around Negan's waist. "Me too." He listened to Negan laugh, and then flinched at the assault of wet kisses to the side of his face. "Holy shit, Negan." Rick pulled back, wiping at his face. "Damn, nevermind. I won't miss you."

"You're a goddamn mess, Rick."

"Me? I'm the goddamn mess?" Rick laughed and took Negan's hand, giving his fingers a squeeze. "Go on. Get outta here."

Negan lifted their hands, kissing Rick's knuckles. "See ya, gorgeous." He cupped the back of Rick's head, lips to his ear. "Love you."

Rick hummed. "Love you, too."

He stayed on the porch, watching as Negan walked through the faint drizzle to his car, keys twirling on his finger. Rick went inside when he no longer saw the car down the road.

*

7:34 PM

Back.

7:35 PM

:)

*

Rick pulled his t-shirt over his head and looked in the mirror above the dresser. He froze, eyes widening, when Negan waved at him, a huge grin on his face. Rick turned around and moved toward him. "What the hell are you doing here?" He grabbed Negan's arm, just to make sure he was real, before going to shut the bedroom door.

"Hello to you, too."

"Hi, Negan." Rick leaned against the door, staring at him. He was in that Prince t-shirt and sweats. "You're supposed to—you can't just. What if they saw you?" He shook his head.

Negan spun on his heel, facing Rick. He walked over, hands finding Rick's waist and pulling him close. "I wanted to have some fun," he said softly.

Rick set his hands on Negan's shoulders, sighing. He pushed, making Negan walk backward, across the room and away from the door. "You fucking popped over here to have sex?"

"I mean, I would have stayed the night, but I didn't want your kids to get the wrong idea about me." Negan leaned in, pressing kisses to Rick's neck. Rick closed his eyes and stepped on Negan's foot. "I can leave, if you want. I know I didn't fucking drive here but I figured, I'm fucking horny, you're readily accessible, I'm a screw-up, what can I lose?"

"Negan," Rick started, pulling back enough to look at him. "You're not a screw-up. You've made mistakes, and." He lowered his hands, touching his arms. Rick glanced down, chewing on the inside of his cheek. "I'm about as guilty as you because I've been thinking about this for longer than I'm willing to admit. Having you… here. Whenever I want." Rick stared at Negan, at his amused expression, and he wrinkled his nose. "Shut up," Rick said, and wrapped an arm around Negan's neck. He kissed him, all too rough, and not caring in the slightest if he seemed needy. Negan was the one who had no self-restraint.

Rick buried his face in a pillow, moaned, drooled, clung. Negan bit his shoulder, where no one would see.

*

Negan curled up behind Rick, an arm around his waist and a leg between his. He cracked his toes. "I'll leave before the kiddos wake up," Negan mumbled. "And this was just a one-time thing. Won't happen again. We hadn't fucked in days, and you looked so damn good today. Not cool."

"Negan."

"Yeah?"

"Shut the hell up." Rick moved his leg, nudging his foot against Negan's. "Tryna sleep. You can guilt me in the morning."

Negan held on tighter. "Guilt  _me_  in the morning."

*

Rick didn't know how, and he didn't particularly care about the specifics. As the light began to shine through the window, each of them woke and reached for the other. They kissed, not caring they were still half-asleep, had morning breath, and that their aim was less than stellar. Rick turned them over, hovering above Negan as he tucked in between his legs. Negan hummed, tipping his head back to look at Rick. "Ya gonna guilt me?" he asked, voice rough and a hint of a smile on his lips.

He wanted to congratulate Negan on remembering their nonsense sleepy conversations, but Rick held his tongue. Instead, he smiled, too, and touched Negan's wrists. Carefully, he squeezed and lifted his arms, pinning them above his head. Rick looked down at him, pressing a kiss underneath his eye. "I'm gonna fuck you," he said.

Negan made a soft sound, a bit intrigued, but it rang more on the desperate side. He moved, wrapping his legs around Rick's waist. "Damn, please, Rick."

"Just like this?"

"Yes, just like this. I'll be quiet." Negan shook one of his hands out of Rick's hold and stuck out his pinky finger. He smiled. "I swear."

Rick counted three pillow lines on his cheek. He hooked his pinky around Negan's. "Thank you." Rick kissed him.

"You're welcome." Negan gave him another kiss. "Now get the fuck on with it while I'm still feeling fuzzy."

He left Negan to his own devices as he rolled to grab the lubricant that had fallen to the floor, after their frantic actions the night before. Rick glanced over at Negan and straightened up, smiling as he hadn't moved, still where he had left him. Negan wiggled his hips. "Come on, Richie."

Rick dropped the lube next to Negan's head, wrapping his arms around his middle. He held Negan close and kissed him, waking up more and more with each one. "Good boy," he murmured. Rick bit his lower lip.

Under him, Negan squirmed. He pressed a heel to the back of Rick's thigh. "I'm a good boy?" he asked, voice cracking.

Rick cupped Negan's face in his hands, nodding. "Yes. You're a good boy."

"Oh, hell." Negan moved, lowering an arm to dig nails into Rick's back. "Fuck me and shower me with compliments."

"You're ridiculous." Rick grabbed the lubricant.

"That counts, Rick. That fucking counts."

*

The bedroom was quiet. They spent minutes recuperating, Rick watching Negan and trying to discern what was going through his mind while having such a soft expression on his features, but nothing came of it.

Negan leaned in and gave Rick a quick kiss. "I've stolen enough of your time." He sat up, hands running through his hair and trying to smooth it down.

Rick turned over, getting close enough to press his lips to Negan's side. Then, he sat up, too, getting out of bed. "I like having you here," he said.

"It's still time you won't get back."

Rick dressed, watching Negan in the mirror. He picked out fresh clothes while Negan pulled on the discarded ones from the floor. The soft expression was gone, replaced with one that Rick couldn't read. He turned around once Negan caught him looking, and walked over to him. Rick lifted a hand, cupping the back of his neck. "Time well spent."

Negan pressed their foreheads together. "I'll talk to you later," he mumbled.

"Yeah."

He took a step back, Rick dropping his hand. "Want me to text you when I make it back?"

"I'd appreciate that." Rick rubbed the back of his hand.

Negan studied him, head tipped to the side. He nodded, giving a small smile, a wink. "Alright, Rick." Slowly, he spun around, waving a hand. Next to him, a portal opened, and he stepped through without another word. It closed with a small pop. Rick stood there, hands on his hips, looking at the spot where Negan once was. He counted the seconds until his phone vibrated.

Nine.

Rick walked over and looked down at his phone. Negan had sent him a thumbs-up emoji. Rick sent him one right back.


	11. Chapter 11

Negan leaned against the doorframe, head tipped back, loose, relaxed. He looked tired. His tongue poked in between his lips as he smiled. "So."

Rick drummed his fingers against the doorknob. He watched Negan, lips pressed together in a smile as he hummed. "You look tired."

Negan hummed, too. "While you were being all… adorable with your apron and brownie making, Judy fucking drop-kicked me, like twelve times," he said.

"It was three times. I counted your shouts." Rick lifted a hand and patted Negan's cheek. He leaned in, giving him a kiss.

"How thoughtful," Negan mumbled. He took a step back, narrowing his eyes at Rick. He wet his lips and nodded. "See ya later."

The look on Negan's face made Rick suspicious, and he shifted on the spot. "Later as in?"

Negan laughed. He stepped forward, setting a hand on the back of Rick's neck. "Cast your mind back the past few days," Negan whispered. He pressed a kiss to Rick's forehead. Then, he was walking down the porch, hands in his pockets. "See ya later, Rick. Tell the kids bye for me."

Rick stayed there for a moment, looking at Negan. "You shouldn't," he said.

Slowly, Negan rotated on his heel, walking backward until he reached his car. "Rick," he said, giving a small shake of his head, the silent  _you know that won't work_. He ducked into his car.

Rick stayed there, staring at a spot on the road. He listened to Negan drive away and tapped his thumb against the doorknob again, counting in his head. Rick closed the door and went through the house, picking up Judith's scattered toys. He tucked a Bratz doll, a stuffed elephant, and a  _Harry Potter_  wand underneath his arm and turned into Judith's bedroom. Rick tossed the elephant on her bed, set the wand on her nightstand, and sat the doll on her bookshelf.

"Did Negan leave?" Judith asked, looking up from her coloring book.

"Yeah."

"Is he coming back tomorrow?"

Rick gave a small laugh, crouching to check Bonnie's water bowl. "You know what, probably." He straightened up, hands on his hips. "Need anything?"

"Nope. Goodnight."

Ruffling her hair, Rick stepped out of the room. He walked down the hall, standing in the doorway to Carl's room. Carl laid on his stomach, on his bed, game controller in hand. He smashed some buttons and glanced Rick's way. "Negan left?"

Behind him, Rick heard his bedroom door slowly close. He nodded. "Yeah."

"Tell him to stop doing that quarter trick."

Rick raised a brow. "You tell him."

"Fine, I will. Is he coming back tomorrow?"

"Maybe."

"It's like he lives here." Carl shook his head and looked back at the screen. "I don't see him get the quarter out, but it's still annoying."

Rick chewed on the inside of his cheek and tapped his knuckles on the wall. "Don't stay up too late."

"School's out."

"Like I said," Rick said, turning around and cracking the door behind him. "Don't stay up too late," he repeated.

Rick opened up the bedroom door and slipped inside, shutting it after. He leaned against the door and stared at Negan on the bed. Negan, turned on his side and propped up on his elbow, stared back. They were quiet, and after a few seconds, Negan looked down at his hand, picking at a nail. "Want me to leave?"

"Don't… Don't do any more magic tricks on my kids," Rick said. He pushed off from the door and walked over to the bed. "Carl hates that quarter trick."

Negan spread out on his back. He looked up at Rick. "It's a harmless little trick." Slowly, carefully, he smiled. "Judy likes it."

"Well, I guess Carl's been watching you. And he isn't dumb Negan." Rick crawled on the bed, over Negan, shaking his head. "I don't want you to leave."

"Good." Negan's smile grew. He shifted, spreading his legs and letting Rick settle in between them. Negan raised his arms above his head and tipped his chin up, watching him. "I'll stop." He gave a firm nod.

Rick leaned in and pressed his face to Negan's neck. He rubbed his nose against his skin, squeezing his eyes shut. "You always say that." Rick pressed a kiss below his ear, feeling Negan rest a hand on the back of his neck. He stayed there, the hand a steady pressure. As time passed, and Negan didn't say or do anything else, Rick laid down, Negan moving his legs to comfortably encase him. "Did you want to have sex?" Rick asked, cheek to Negan's shoulder. His voice sounded odd, intrusive, the question tasting inappropriate.

"No, Rick," Negan said, his voice rough and strained. Rick didn't look at him. Instead, he slid his arm around Negan's waist and held him there, hoping to provide a supportive touch.

"Okay."

*

Rick slept until eight in the morning. He lifted his head, wiping his face with a hand, and turned over in bed. Negan was next to him, sleeping with a furrowed brow. He held a pillow close, most of his face smashed into the material. Rick got up, trying his best not to rock the bed.

He stood in the center of the room, looking out of the window as he absently rubbed his palm. Last night, Negan was upset. He always got upset when Rick pointed out his inconsistencies, when Negan said one thing but did another. It wasn't like Negan was oblivious toward his actions; in fact, he had even told Rick himself he was tired of it. Why were these little fights as constant and routine as everything else they did?

"Morning."

Rick looked over, smiling softly at Negan. "Good morning."

Negan stretched, letting out a sigh as he sat up. "Is it?" he asked, scratching the back of his head. He looked up at Rick, raising a brow.

"I think it is." Rick went to the bed, sitting on the edge. "So far, I mean," he added.

"Am I making this morning fucking good?" Negan teased, propping up his head with a fist.

Rick shoved at a shoulder. "Shut up." He leaned in, giving him a quick kiss. "Yeah, you are."

Negan smiled, smug, and laid back down, an arm behind his head and the other over his stomach. "That's what I thought."

He stood up again, moving toward the bathroom. Switching on the light, Rick lingered in front of the mirror. "Guess what Carl said last night."

"Besides telling you that he hates my quarter trick?"

Rick slipped his shirt off. "Yeah. Besides that." He looked over, giving Negan his own teasing look. "It's like you live here." Rick pulled the shower curtain aside, turning on the water.

Negan rolled out of bed, walking into the bathroom, too. He pulled his shirt off and narrowed his eyes at Rick. "You really want me to live here? I've got a lot of baggage."

"I know all about your baggage, Negan."

"Hurtful."

Rick stepped into the shower, Negan crowding against him right after. He lifted a hand to touch the wall before Negan backed him into a corner. "Stop that."

"You know what would make a morning good for me, Rick?" Negan ran his fingers through Rick's hair, pushing it back. "A fresh start."

*

Negan left as Rick finished getting dressed. He mumbled something about his fucking car, and then Rick heard the crack of a portal. Rick stared at the empty space and went to get Judith up. By the time she was awake enough to walk without whining, Rick heard a car park out front and another crack. He followed Judith out into the hall and saw Negan seated at the kitchen table, newspaper in front of him. He glanced at Rick. "If I'm going to live here, you need to get me a key."

Judith rushed over and gave Negan a hug.

Several minutes later, Carl walked into the kitchen and stood in the doorway, Rick, Negan, and Judith sitting at the table and eating breakfast. He narrowed his eyes and dropped into a chair. "Already here? Kinda early, don't you think?"

Negan shrugged, taking a drink of coffee. He looked over at Carl. "I came back last night."

"You snuck in?"

"Hey, I didn't do any sneaking."

"Well, I didn't hear you."

"I'm very quiet," Negan said, narrowing his own eyes at Carl. He set his cup down and leaned over, close to Carl. "This gonna be a problem?"

Carl stared at Negan and shook his head, expression sincere. "No."

Negan raised his brows and settled back in his chair. "Good. Now, kid. I heard you didn't like my quarter trick."

*

The day went on slowly, and Rick didn't mind. They stayed home, Rick occasionally popping outside to let Judith play in the yard with Bonnie. Carl was in and out. Negan kept close to Rick, but was mostly quiet. He did pull away and play with Judith when she asked. Like Rick, it seemed he couldn't tell her no either.

*

"You okay?" Rick asked, mouth full with brownie.

"Yeah," Negan said, face also stuffed. "Just thinking."

"Wanna tell me what you're thinking?"

"Lemme think about that, too."

Rick wiped away crumbs and stood, squeezing Negan's shoulder as he walked past him. "Whenever you're ready."

He looked into the living room, Bonnie perched on the couch. Rick picked her up and held her close, going back into the kitchen. "Hey."

Negan shoved the last bit of brownie in his mouth and looked up at him. "What?"

Rick held out Bonnie. "I don't think I've seen you hold her before."

"I've held her." Negan got out of his chair and stood in front of Rick.

"When I wasn't there?"

"Yeah. You weren't there. Judy saw." Negan took Bonnie from Rick and kept her to his chest. He stroked fingers through her fur. Bonnie's nose twitched. "She's good, right?" Negan asked. He glanced at Rick, then at the rabbit. "I did something right with… myself."

Rick studied Negan, reaching out to touch his arm. He gave a smile. "Yeah. She's good. You did okay." Rick reached up and pressed a kiss to Negan's forehead. He settled back on his heels and looked down at Bonnie, absently touching the hand that cradled her head. Rick laughed. "You know, she's like your daughter."

"Don't fucking say that." Negan frowned and shook his head. "Rick, no."

He laughed again, stepping away from Negan and heading down the hall. "Put her in  _my_  daughter's room."

"Fuck you, Rick."

"Hey!" Carl shouted from his room.

Rick spun around and stuck his tongue out at Negan before sliding into their room.

*

Negan crawled into bed, sitting on Rick's hips. He grabbed Rick's wrists and squeezed and squeezed. "Fuck me."

"Turn off the light."

Rick watched Negan lean to the side, reaching for the lamp, but he didn't see or hear it switch off. Still, they were now in the dark, and Negan buried his face in Rick's neck.

"Negan," Rick sighed. He touched the middle of his back.

"Don't start."

Rick turned, pressing Negan against the bed, one of his legs bending to rest against Rick's shoulder. Negan let out a small gasp, grabbing Rick's side as he lowered his leg. "Sorry," Rick said.

Negan laid there, shaking his head. "Wrong angle." He cleared his throat and propped himself up on his elbows. "Alright, fuck me. I'm okay."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Negan nodded and laid back down. "Yeah, Rick." He lifted his legs and wrapped them around his waist. Negan pulled Rick in, grinning.

Rick raised his brows, smiling, too, and kissed him.

Negan stayed on his back, arms wrapped tight around Rick's neck, muttering a chorus of curses in his ear.


	12. Chapter 12

They stayed in most days, Rick more than happy to lay around and watch Judith play, hang with Carl, spend time with Negan. He had thought Negan would want to go out occasionally, at least back to his place to get more of his things, more clothes and the sentimental items he must have left behind when he got his car.

"Don't worry about it, Richie. I have everything I need right here." He smiled and winked, and Rick didn't worry about it. Well, he worried, but he didn't tell Negan that.

*

Rick stood in the kitchen doorway, staring at Negan as he stayed by the sink, eyes ahead. He bowed his head, fingers curling, and took a deep breath. Rick glanced down the hall before walking over to Negan. He touched his back, his arm. "Hey."

Negan flinched against his touch, just for a second, and looked at Rick. His expression changed quickly, and he smiled down at him. "Hey yourself."

He studied Negan, rubbing his thumb against the crook of his elbow. Rick looked out of the window, down at the empty sink, and back up at Negan. "If something was… wrong, you'd tell me, right?"

Rick kept his eyes on Negan, and Negan didn't look away. Slowly, though, his smile faltered. Negan sighed, steadying himself, and looked down, breaking the contact. "I don't know why I feel like shit," he mumbled. "I mean, I  _do_ , but I don't at the same time." Negan shook his head, closing his eyes. "I'm fucking lying to the kids. I feel like I'm lying to them."

"Negan," Rick started, pulling on his arm. "Let's talk in the bedroom. They might—"

"—like  _that_. We shouldn't have to fucking do that."

Rick pulled on his arm again and lead him down the hall. Negan quietly followed and shook his arm out of Rick's hold once in the room. He stood in the center, hands on his hips. "I'm not gonna tell them," Negan said, looking over. "If you're fucking worried."

"What's brought this on?" Rick frowned, shutting the door. "I thought things were going fine. I mean, you've been a bit quiet, but I thought that was just, I don't know, you being comfortable." He scratched his head, running fingers through his hair, and moved toward him.

Negan looked down at Rick, matching his frown, and carefully reached out, touching the side of his neck. "Things are fine. I'm just… I'd like to be able to spend time with the kids without hiding anything."

"To them, you aren't hiding anything, Negan."

"But you know, Rick! You fucking know everything!" Negan narrowed his eyes, lowering his hand. He stared at him, pressing his lips together.

Rick furrowed his brow and tipped his head to the side. "Yeah? I think that's made things better."

"Look at this, Rick!" Negan lifted his hand, skin ablaze. "How has this made things better?"

Rick turned away, sitting down on the bed. He set his elbows on his knees, leaning forward. "I know you want to stop, and I've tried to remind you, but you bite my head off. Half the time I don't think you want to stop." He looked up at Negan. "I get it. Lucille was never okay with everything. I… I have my issues with it, but I think I've put those aside so you can be comfortable. Or at least try to." Rick rubbed his face. "Your hand's still on fire."

Negan waved his hand with a huff, the flame going out with ease. "Newsflash, Rick. I fucking hate myself. I'm never comfortable."

"And that's not going to change?"

"Nope," Negan said, lips popping. He gave a grim smile, arms hanging at his sides. He shrugged, lifting his hands.

Rick narrowed his eyes. "You're not even trying."

"It's fucking hard to like yourself when your entire existence is a fucking curse."

Rick stood up, letting out a sigh. He stared at Negan and shook his head. "Don't do that."

Negan frowned. "I'm sorry, Rick."

"Shit," Rick breathed out. He walked back over to Negan and gently let his hand rest on his arm. "We'll figure something out. We can, you might, I don't know." Rick looked up at him. "It's the magic, right? You don't want it. Is there something you can do to… get rid of it?"

Negan wrapped an arm around Rick's shoulders, leaning in to press a kiss to his temple. "I don't know," he murmured. He moved his face from side to side, rubbing whiskered skin against Rick's. Rick closed his eyes. Negan sighed, stopping the back and forth motion. "To be fucking honest, Rick, probably not. What am I supposed to do? Go on the fucking dark web and find other people like me?"

Rick leaned his head on Negan's shoulder, letting out a small laugh. "Don't go on the dark web."

"I guess I just have to fucking keep doing what I'm doing."

"I'll be here. I'll help."

"Thanks, Rick," Negan mumbled. He lowered his hands, touching Rick's sides. He squeezed, keeping him close. "These past few days, I've been thinking, and I'm going to make things better. Count on it."

Rick touched Negan's shoulder and kissed his cheek. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Negan looked down at him, quirking a brow. "You won't like it."

"Sure." Rick shook his head and rolled his eyes. "Don't say shit like that." He patted Negan's cheek, walking toward the bathroom. "I think a warm bath sounds good right now." He turned around, leaning against the door frame. "What do you think?"

Negan marched into the bathroom, tossing his shirt behind him.

*

"We should have lit a couple of fucking candles before you started bouncing on my dick."

"Oh, God, I'm gonna stop now."

Negan wrapped his arms around Rick's waist, held him, and laughed and laughed.

*

Rick lingered in the hallway, steps away from the living room, but he hesitated. He watched Negan, sitting on the floor with Judith between his legs, braiding her hair with careful fingers. With his tongue between his lips, he glanced between his work and the television. Judith seemed oblivious to Negan, eyes glued to the screen. Rick couldn't see what they were watching, but he could hear  _Beauty and the Beast_  from his spot.

The floor creaked. Rick blinked and looked over, Carl at his side. He had his eyes fixed on Negan and Judith. "Are you and Negan doing okay?" he asked, voice low.

Rick studied Carl, slowly looking away and back to the living room. Negan tied the end of the braid and brushed loose strands behind Judith's ear. Rick nodded, bumping his arm against Carl's. "Yeah, I think so."

"Good."

Carl went into the kitchen, and Rick into the living room. He sat on the couch, behind Negan, and Negan leaned against his legs. "Thought you were going to hover there forever."

"Nah." Rick pressed toes to Negan's side. He glanced over, catching Carl's eye as he went back to his room.

"What were you two talking about?"

"Us."

Negan laughed. "Right."

Rick ran his fingers through Negan's hair, paying more attention to the grays he counted than the movie.

*

Thunder cracked, and the bedroom door shut. Rick lifted his head from his phone and looked at Negan. "Hey, I was just about to get up." Negan leaned against the door, raising his brows. Rick waved his phone. "Tell the kids goodnight."

Negan shook his head. "Don't have to. Carl's already crashed out, and Judy didn't last long after I read to her."

Rick smiled, setting his phone on his chest, and crossed his arms. "Look at you."

"Yeah," Negan said, huffing out a breath and giving a small smile. He pushed off from the door and rubbed his face, wiping the smile away. "I'm fucking great." Negan walked to the bed and crawled in, turning toward Rick. "Anything interesting?" He picked up Rick's phone.

"It's supposed to keep raining." Rick watched Negan, sticking an arm behind his head. "Is that interesting?"

Negan breathed in, glanced at Rick, and continued tapping his thumb against the screen. "Fuck yeah." He lingered on the device for a few more seconds before he locked it, stretching across Rick to plug it in. It took Negan a couple tries, Rick noting a small bit of shaking in his hands, but he set it on the nightstand when he was done. He switched off the lamp, and moved back, keeping an arm draped over Rick's waist.

Rick lowered a hand, touching Negan's wrist. "Rain's nice."

Negan hummed, staring at him with heavy-lidded eyes.

"Judy might wake up."

"Let's hope not," Negan mumbled, a small frown on his face. He rubbed his thumb against Rick's side. "She slept through that storm a few days ago."

Rick closed his eyes, running his fingers along Negan's arm. "Yeah, but that was a few days ago."

"Look at me."

He opened his eyes and looked over at Negan, furrowing his brow. Rick smoothed out his shirt sleeve. "I'm looking, Negan." He dropped his hand, scratching his wrist. "Everything okay?"

Negan kept quiet, wetting his lips as he studied Rick's face. He started to shake his head, the hint of a smile back on his face. "Yeah, everything's fine. I'm just… fucking looking, too, Rick."

"Yeah? Like what you see?"

"Mm, yeah." Negan sat up a bit and leaned over, giving Rick a kiss. He pressed a hand to his cheek, keeping him close. Rick raised his own hand to cup the back of Negan's head, fingers in his hair.

Slowly, they pulled back, Negan easily sliding his lips down to kiss the curve of Rick's jaw. He lingered there, the fingers against Rick's cheek curling as he held him. Rick gently squeezed Negan's shoulder.

Negan raised his head and looked down at him, running his thumb along his eyebrow. "I love you, you know that?"

Rick touched the back of Negan's hand and turned his head, leaving a kiss on the meaty part of his thumb. "Yeah, I do." Rick glanced back at him. "I love you, too."

"I'm a fucking idiot, but I want what's best for you, for us." Negan laid back down, moving Rick in his arms. He curled up behind him, arms securely around his waist.

"I know that," Rick mumbled. "Who doesn't?"

Negan kissed the back of his head. "I dunno."

Rick stared at the window, watching another flash of lightning across the sky. He curled his toes, and Negan pressed his palm to his chest. "Do you ever think about where you'd be if I… didn't fucking pull you up on that stage?" Negan asked.

"I don't like thinking about what ifs," Rick said.

"Yeah, but what fucking if, though?"

"Negan—"

"—no, please, Rick. Just fucking humor me for a second." Negan held onto the front of Rick's shirt. "What if I hadn't thought you were fucking cute and pulled you on the stage? You wouldn't have known shit about me. We wouldn't have… wouldn't have done… shit."

Rick frowned. "We could have met somewhere else. Gotten to know each other that way."

"What if I did pull you on the fucking stage and then I-I wiped your memory? Let you walk away and go back to your kids, and you'd just think you did fall through a fucking trapdoor," Negan said, voice lowering to a whisper.

"Then I would have thought I went through a trapdoor," Rick said. "What's brought this on?" he asked, starting to turn in Negan's arms.

Negan's grip tightened. "No, just. Stay there." He leaned in, face to the side of Rick's neck. "Stay there," he repeated. "So, we would have met somewhere else, if I hadn't pulled you from the party."

Rick faced forward, lowering a hand to touch Negan's fingers. He looked at the wall. "Yeah, I mean." He swallowed. "It's a small town."

Slowly, Negan inched his fingers to the hollow of Rick's throat. He tucked his thumb into the collar of his shirt. "Would we still end up here?" Negan asked. "Together. Fucking together." He touched Rick's chin, pressing closer.

"I… I can't answer that, Negan," he said. Rick lowered his hand, and Negan moved his again, cradling the side of Rick's face. "I'd like to think so, though. This is a good thing."

"You really think so?"

"Yeah, I do." Rick smiled, and Negan ran his thumb along his lips. "Of course, I do. You fit into our family. I didn't realize something was missing, and I especially didn't expect it to be a peacock in the park."

Negan laughed. "Rick, fuck you." He pressed a kiss behind his ear. "I hope you're right, though," he added. "We'll meet again. I just got a feeling." Negan covered Rick's eyes.

Rick closed his eyes against Negan's hand and furrowed his brow. "What are you talking about?"

"This time I'll make things right."

"Negan." Rick lifted his hands, pulling Negan's arm away. "Whatever you're thinking, don't. You don't have to do this."

Negan shook his arm out of Rick's hold and tightened the one around his waist. "Yes, I fucking do. I'm gonna make things better. We're starting over."

Rick squirmed, pressing his elbow to Negan's chest. "You are so full of fucking shit."

"Stay still, Rick."

"You can't make this kind of decision by yourself. It's my life." Rick turned on his back, looking up at Negan. He met his eyes, dark, shiny, and red, lips pressed together.

Negan shook his head, blinking furiously. "Yeah, but I fucking screwed up your life, and now you're fucking lying to your kids because I couldn't clean up my fucking mess." He touched Rick's cheek, fingertips pressing into his skin. "I can't let you do that. We'll start over. No more lies. A fresh fucking start."

Rick smacked Negan's hand away and held his wrist, keeping him at a distance. "You'll just know everything about me, though. About my fucking family. You'll be lying, Negan."

"You won't be. Just let me… Goddamn it, Rick. I fucking thought about this for a long time. I know what I'm doing!"

"You didn't screw up my life, Negan. This has been the happiest I've ever been, and you want to just, just throw away everything we've had together?" Rick studied him, frowning, shaking his head. "Carl and Judith, you're a father to them, Negan."

He sighed, a loud frustrated thing, and yanked his hand away from Rick. Negan sat up, roughly scratching his head. "Rick, I gotta fucking do this. I can't fucking…  _Shit_." He rubbed his face, dragging his hands down. "The kiddos are gonna have a fucking stranger in their house," he mumbled.

Rick widened his eyes and sat up, too. "What did you fucking  _do_?" he asked, spatting, but he already knew the answer. He already knew. Rick reached out and grabbed Negan's shoulder. "You told them goodnight."

Negan slowly nodded. "I did."

Gradually, Rick tightened his grip on Negan's shoulder. He dug his fingers in, but Negan didn't move. He closed his eyes, head tipped back. Rick tried to think and not just act. Negan had, he had,  _shit_. Rick breathed in and wrinkled his nose, feeling his hand begin to ache. He pulled back, flexing fingers and shaking his head. "Do you realize what you've done?" he said softly.

_There's a monster in this room_.

Negan stared at a spot on the bed covers. "I know, Rick," he replied in the same tone. "I fucking do. But if it's any consolation, they didn't know. As far as they're concerned, I just ran my fingers through their hair."

Rick swallowed and looked down at his hands. "What do you expect me to say, Negan? Go ahead and do your fucking trick on me?"

"It's not a goddamn trick. I'm trying to fix things—"

"—shut up. Stop saying that." Rick held his head in his hands, squeezing his eyes closed. "God, Negan, you're backing me into a corner." He lowered his hands and looked over, Negan already staring at him with the softest expression in the whole damn world. Rick sighed, feeling his anger already start to waver, but no, no, he had to stay angry. He looked away and narrowed his eyes at the bed covers. "Don't look at me like that."

"Like what, Rick?"

He laid back, rubbing his eyes. In the morning, Carl and Judith would wake up and see Negan, a man that they wouldn't know, wouldn't have even seen before. How would he explain that?  _Sorry, kids, my one-night stand didn't want to leave. Also, he lives here now._

Yeah, that'd go over well.

He could kick Negan out, tell him he never wanted to see him again. That was never going to happen, God, this was  _Negan_.

"Rick, talk to me."

Could he make Negan move out and then work their relationship back to their current place? But he would still be lying to the kids, something that Negan was against.

"You don't care to keep lying?" Rick asked, lowering his hands. "You think, if we cross paths again, you could stand there, knowing everything about me, and act like I'm a stranger?"

Negan leaned back, scooting down to be eye-level with Rick. "Yes." He frowned. "I know what I'm doing," he added, whispering. "I've thought about this, Rick." Negan studied him, biting his lip. "Let me do this."

Rick stared at him, finding it hard to look away. If he stared long enough, maybe, he'd be able to imprint Negan on the backs of his eyelids, always there, hard to erase. He swallowed and shook his head. "What if we don't… get back here? All of this would have been pointless."

"Can I touch you?"

"Yeah."

Negan reached out, touching the side of Rick's neck. He rubbed his thumb into his skin, continuing to watch him with cautious eyes. "Things will happen the way they're supposed to."

Rick touched Negan's hand. He held onto his fingers. "I hope you're right. Otherwise, you're full of shit." Rick smiled, even laughed. Negan laughed, too.

"When aren't I full of shit, Rick?" Negan asked.

His cheeks hurt from smiling, and he thought he felt a tear slide down his face. Rick raised a hand to wipe it away. "Good point."

Negan's smile softened, and he nudged Rick's hand away, leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek. He pulled back to rub at the spot. "Don't cry. You won't even remember why you were when you wake up."

If that was intending to be comforting, it did little except cause a shiver to run down Rick's spine. He stared at Negan, the knot in his throat painful. Negan frowned and looked away. "That was fucked up. I'm sorry."

"Yeah, it was."

Negan rolled onto his back, eyes on the ceiling. It sounded like the rain had died down. Rick closed his eyes and tried to listen. He could only concentrate on Negan breathing.

"I don't have much of a choice," Rick said, keeping his eyes closed. He imagined struggling, Negan being so damn persistent and certain this was going to happen. Rick thought of Negan's fight with Lucille, of the yelling and grabbing that killed her.

"I'm sorry."

Rick opened his eyes and turned to look at him. "Please don't mess this up," he whispered.

Negan nodded. "I won't."

"Don't mess this up and everything that comes after."

"I won't."

Rick looked away, moving to get under the covers. Negan followed him, though much slower and hesitant. He laid next to Rick, inches away. "I'll do it when you're asleep," he murmured.

Nodding, Rick found it hard to talk. It'd be harder to fall asleep. He faced Negan and wrapped an arm around his waist, grip tight. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Rick." Negan held him close, a handful of his shirt bunched into his palm.

"How do you know it worked if you leave before I wake up?" Rick mumbled.

"It'll work, Rick," Negan said. "I've done it too many times for it not to."

Rick squeezed his eyes closed and turned to press his face to Negan's shirt. He breathed in and out.

_The darkness can be scary._

_How can this not be tormenting you?_

_I'm used to it._

_Kiss me a little. A lot. Take me to bed if you want. I'll let you._

_I can't do this to you. Not you. Not fucking you._

_For someone special. From the beginning._

_I just don't know how to show you how special you are to me._

_This time I'll make things right._

Rick felt Negan run his thumb along the curve of his cheek, his lips. He softly bit at Negan's thumb, and when he didn't pull back, Rick bit him a little harder.

"I deserve much worse," said Negan.

"Shut up," Rick said and fell asleep.


	13. Chapter 13

Rick jerked awake, reaching to grab the blankets. He pulled them close, looking around the bedroom. It was still dark, just the beginnings of morning starting to show. He could hear rain, a slight drizzle. Rick lifted a hand to rub his face, the sleep away from his eyes. Behind them, there was a dull pain.

He tried to remember his dream. There was a crow perched on his chest. Rick had shooed it away, but it didn't move. It stared at him and snapped at his tongue.

Then he woke up. If there was anything else, he didn't remember. He didn't remember much after telling Judith goodnight. He read her a story, but he couldn't remember what it was. Rick rubbed at his face again, his forehead. The book would be on her nightstand.

Rick sat up and tossed the bed covers aside. He picked up his phone, and the screen unlocked, showing his text messages. There wasn't a lot, just from Carl and Jeffrey. He furrowed his brow, squinting at the screen. Lifting a hand, he scratched his cheek and closed out of his messages. He locked his phone, unplugged it, and walked out of the room.

The house was quiet. The floor creaked under Rick's feet.

He went outside and sat down on the porch steps, balancing his phone on his knee and crossing his arms over his chest. The rain had stopped.

"Dad, what are you doing?"

Rick glanced over his shoulder, up at Carl. "Sitting. You okay? It's early."

"I heard the door open."

"And you wanted to check?"

"Who else would it be?"

Rick gave a small smile. "Go back to bed," he said.

Carl left without another word, closing the door behind him. Rick looked across the yard, staring at the road, the streetlamp. The light went out without a flicker. Rick blinked, furrowed his brow, and looked down the road. The next streetlamp was still lit. Rick frowned and stared at it. The bulb must have blown out. Do they do that?

He stood up and slipped back inside. Rick checked on Judith, who was twisted in her blankets and snoring softly. On her nightstand was  _Sleeping Beauty_.

Rick passed Carl's room, the door shut, all quiet. He dropped his phone on his bed before going into the bathroom. Rick searched through the cabinet, trying to find something to soothe this headache.

He downed a couple Tylenol, drank another cup of water, and stood in the bathroom, the last bulb over the mirror the only thing helping him see. Rick lifted his right hand, palm up, and looked at the small spot in the center. He rubbed his thumb against it, but it stayed. And hurt a bit. Rick shook his head and switched off the light.

The bed felt cold and big. Rick pulled the blankets closer and stretched out his legs as far as they could go.

*

Rick squeezed Judith's hand so she wouldn't run off. He held his phone to his ear, brow furrowed. "Hey, what's going on?"

"Hey, would you look at that! He speaks!" Jeffrey said, laughing.

"Of course I'm speaking. What are you going on about?" Rick walked Judith down the aisle, squinting at the boxes of cereal.

"We haven't talked in ages, Richie! I've texted you and everything."

"Yeah, I thought I texted you back." Rick crouched down, pointing at a box of Cheerios. Judith shook her head.

"You just said 'hi'. That's not even a conversation."

"It's a start of one." Rick stared at the row of Cheerios boxes. "I haven't really been up to anything. Carl's getting out of the house more than me."

"A tragedy."

"I know." Rick glanced over, Judith a few feet away, head tipped back to look at the selections above her. "Did you know on some of these Cheerios boxes, they took the bee off?"

"What?"

"Yeah. Save the bees, Jeffrey."

"Daddy! I want this one."

Rick stood up and turned toward her, stopping to see a man hand Judith a box of Frosted Flakes. "Here you go. Those are probably my favorite."

"Judy." He moved next to her, hand absently touching her hair. Rick lowered his phone and stared at the man, offering a smile. "Thank you." He took the box from Judith and stuck it underneath his arm.

"You're welcome," he said, looking at Rick with a fond smile of his own. Slowly, he turned and walked down the aisle, the basket in his hand swinging.

Rick stayed there and watched, wetting his lips. He scratched his forehead, shaking his head, and lifted the phone back to his ear. "Sorry. I'm at the store."

"It's cool. Which reminds me, are we still having that dinner with Madison?"

Rick held Judith's hand again, leading her to the freezer section. He frowned. "We were having dinner with Madison? Jeff, do you know when the last time I—"

"—I mean, it was hypothetical. Wait, did you seriously forget?"

"Forget  _what_?" Rick let go of Judith's hand and pointed at the ice cream. "Want any?"

Judith pressed her hands to the glass and stared.

"You told me you saw her like two months ago. Met her son and everything."

Rick squeezed his eyes closed, held his breath, and opened them. "Nick."

"Yeah!"

"Well, you can tell I really wanted to have that dinner." Judith tapped the glass, pointing at some cups of strawberry ice cream. Rick moved Judith out of the way and opened the freezer, grabbing a bag. "I don't really think she was interested in catching up. Always was private." He examined the bag and handed it off to Judith. She took it, holding it with a grin. Rick smiled, too.

"We don't have to get together, then. She'd probably make some excuse."

Rick lifted his head and looked down the aisle, catching the sight of the same man from earlier. He swallowed. "Yeah." The man put down a package of cookies. He raised a hand to rub his cheek, dragging across clean-shaven skin, and turned his head. His eyes met Rick's, and he dropped his hand, giving another smile, small, unassuming. Rick tightened his grip on the phone. He didn't know what was going on in his chest. He breathed in, steadying.

"I can hear you breathing."

Rick looked away, taking Judith's hand again. "Sorry. Thinking. Did you still want to get together? We could have dinner." He walked past the frozen food sections. "Whenever you're free." Rick glanced up. The man was gone.

"Is tonight too short notice?"

"Carl's hanging out with some friends. I can text him."

"Oh, so you'll text  _him_."

Rick laughed. "Shut up, Jeff. I can text you later. Want me to get anything? I have… Frosted Flakes and strawberry ice cream."

"It's fine, Richie. I should let you go. You sound preoccupied."

"It's the store."

"Right. Talk to you later."

"Bye." Rick ended the call and stuck his phone in his pocket. "Lemme carry that," he said, taking the ice cream from Judith. "Let's get home before all of this melts." Judith giggled. They passed the self-checkouts, and again, Rick saw him, eyeing the cover of a tabloid magazine while he waited for his card to be read. This time, Rick looked away before he was caught, and followed Judith to one of the registers.

*

"So, what's her name?" Jeffrey shook the ketchup bottle.

Carl glanced his way. "Enid."

Jeffrey smiled. "I'm happy for you. Are Enid's parents… together?"

Rick lowered his cheeseburger and gave Jeffrey a look. "Jeff."

"Hey, it's not for me." Jeffrey quirked his eyebrow, squeezing ketchup onto his burger. Rick rolled his eyes.

"They're together. Still married." Carl shook his head. "And I don't think… they're… open to, uh, a third—god, nevermind."

Jeffrey laughed, and Rick smiled, despite himself. Judith chewed on a fry, none the wiser.

"Got any classes together?" Rick asked, staring into his burger. "I don't think I've asked."

"Like two. Pre-cal and biology."

"That's not too bad."

"Know if any of your teachers are single?"

"Jeffrey."

"It's a bit depressing, my big brother all cooped up in that house with nothing to do." Jeffrey narrowed his eyes. "Unless you're still—"

"—still what?"

Jeffrey slowly frowned. He shrugged, shaking his head. "Forget it."

"Already have." Rick looked at Carl. "You don't have to answer that."

Carl held his burger, face pinched in concentration. "I think Ms. Harrison got married over the break."

Rick rubbed his face.

*

"Carl can drive, right?"

Rick looked over, seeing Jeffrey lingering in the front doorway. He nodded. "Yeah."

"Here." Jeffrey handed him a can of beer. "Sorry I was pestering you at dinner."

"It's fine." Rick stared at the can and cracked it open. "Where are they?"

"Carl's on my Xbox, and Judith's asleep on the couch."

Rick frowned. "She'll be up late tonight." He took a drink.

"Everything okay, Richie?" Jeffrey stood next to him, leaning on the porch railings. "You've been too quiet. Like you were after Lori."

"That was almost four years ago."

"Yeah, and you're moping around again."

"I'm not  _moping_."

"I didn't want to bring it up in case the kids didn't know, but, I dunno, did you stop seeing that… was it just a hook-up?"

Rick took another drink, furrowing his brow. "What are you talking about?"

"That weekend Carl and Judith stayed with me? You had the house to yourself? Fuck, Richie, you had a hickey on your neck." Jeffrey laughed.

Rick hung his head, rubbing the back of his neck. He closed his eyes, the throbbing behind them returning. Slowly, he opened them and stared at the grass. "I don't remember what happened, Jeffrey. I guess it didn't end well."

"You seemed happy."

"Yeah, well, shit happens." Rick tipped the can back, roughly swallowing. "I appreciate your concern, but I'm okay. No need to worry."

Jeffrey gave a small smile. "Okay, Rick."

A car drove down the road. A dog barked. Rick's head ached. Gluten-free beer tasted awful.

*

Maybe he was in a rut. Rick wasn't unhappy, but after talking to his brother he did feel like something was missing. Damn it, Jeffrey. What did he know?

_A hell of a lot more than you._

Rick pressed his palm to his forehead. Hard.

His phone vibrated from the coffee table. Rick glanced at Judith and her rabbit on the living room floor, and picked up his phone. It was a text from Carl. He had to stay after school to make up a test—he didn't know how long he'd take.

Rick looked back at Judith. "I got you Bonnie, right?"

"Right," she said happily. She tried to slip a hat on her head.

He smiled. "I don't think she likes that."

"Yes, she does!"

Bonnie twitched her nose.

*

The parking lot was empty. Rick pulled into a spot near the steps and looked ahead. He rubbed his thumbs into the steering wheel. "Do you want to sit in the car, or sit out on the steps?"

Judith glanced between him and the window. "Outside."

Rick nodded and pulled off his seatbelt. "Let's wait for your brother outside."

They sat on the steps, Judith picking at the grass next to them. Rick watched her, propping his head with his hand. He smiled. "Go get a dandelion, Judy."

Judith shot up and ducked under the railing, walking through the grass to find a dandelion. She pulled one up and grinned, marching back over to Rick. "Like Bonnie!"

A shiver went down Rick's spine. He rubbed his arm. "What?"

She blew on the dandelion, giggling. "Fluff!"

Slowly, Rick smiled again and nodded. "Yeah, Bonnie's pretty fluffy." Judith tossed the stem of the dandelion over her shoulder. "Do you want to get another one?" he asked.

"Nope." She wrapped an arm around the railing and begun to twist around, swinging.

"Be careful," Rick said. "Don't want to hurt yourself." He rested his chin on his fist again, watching as she hung on the railing like a monkey. "Next year, you're gonna start school." Rick frowned. "You're growing up too fast, Judy."

"I think she's a little young to go  _here_."

Before Rick could turn his head, Judith launched herself at him, flinging her arms around his neck in a hug. He leaned from the force, his head hitting the stair railing. Rick screwed his eyes closed and grimaced, lifting a hand to touch Judith's back and the other to touch his head.

"Holy shit! That looked like it hurt!"

_I need a—_

_I'm gonna get someone up on this—_

_You back there, with the—_

_Pretty cheap trick, huh?_

Rick opened his eyes, widened them, and lifted his head. His mind was spinning. The sun was too bright. He caught the worried gaze of a man, the same man he had seen in the store. His eyes were wide, too, and he crouched down next to Rick and Judith. "Shit, are you okay?" he asked, voice low.

Judith squirmed in his arms. Rick felt his grip loosen as he roughly swallowed. He squeezed his eyes shut again, trying to control his breathing. He felt claustrophobic. Rick let Judith go, and he stood up, reaching for the railing. "I think I'm gonna be sick."

"Nope, not today." The man stood, too, and took a step back, up the stairs. "Can you walk? Let's get you somewhere nice and cool. Get you out of this damn heat."

Rick tightened his hold. "No. I'm good here. I'm waiting for—"

"—I'm sure you can give them a change of address." The man slipped an arm around Rick's waist and pulled him in. He looked down at Judith. "What's your name, little lady?"

Judith glanced at Rick, hands to her mouth. Rick rubbed his face, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Um, Judith," she said.

"Well, Judith, I'm Negan. Do you want to lead the way? I can tell you what direction to go."

She was reluctant at first, staring at her father, but she soon took a step forward. Judith looked back at Negan.

"There you go. Go through the front doors, and turn left."

They walked into the school and down the hall, Rick pushing away from Negan. "I'm good. I'm fine. I can walk." He stopped, lifting a hand to touch the side of his head. "Just a little bump."

Negan looked behind him, Judith staying a few feet in front of them. He put his hands on his hips. "That's a bunch of… Come on. I have some water in my office. You'll feel better."

Rick didn't move immediately. He lowered his hand and closed his eyes again.

_That didn't really—_

_That's right—_

_That didn't hap—_

"Okay," Rick said, opening his eyes, and started walking again. "Sorry."

Negan waited until Rick was next to him before he set off. "Why are you apologizing?" he asked. "The little hellion should apologize, jumping all over you."

Rick managed a smile. "She'll do what she likes."

Negan hummed. "In here." He touched Judith's shoulder and moved her aside. "These doors are heavier. Let me." Judith stepped back, hands behind her back. Negan pushed on the door and held it open. "It's always chilly in here. Might feel better soon."

Judith grabbed Rick's hand as they walked into the gym. Like Negan said, it was chilly—a cold breeze hit Rick as he stepped through the doorway, making goosebumps along his arms. He squeezed Judith's fingers, wetting his lips. "You, you work here?"

"Well, yeah. That's why I have an office." Negan laughed, and it echoed through the empty room. He walked down a set of steps, on the basketball court, and turned a corner. He held the door open, too. "Just go sit down. I'll get some water or something."

The office was bare, inside only a small bookshelf, a desk and computer, and a couple chairs. Behind the desk, there was a mini-refrigerator. Judith went to sit down, while Rick stayed by the door. Behind him, Negan closed it.

"Have you worked here long?" Rick asked.

"Nah. This is my first year." Negan walked around Rick and crouched, digging in the mini-fridge. He took out a bottle of water and stood up straight. "Here. Don't worry, I've got loads more. Kids overwork themselves all the time."

Rick held the water bottle, rubbing it in between his hands. "You said your name was Negan?" He twisted the cap off.

"Yeah, I'm Negan." He sat behind his desk, crossing his arms over his chest. "And you?"

"I'm Rick." He took a drink, slow, careful. His eyes slid shut, humming softly. Rick swallowed and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "That's good."

Negan laughed again, grinning. "Man, Rick. That was a bit X-rated."

Rick rolled his eyes. He dragged a chair over to Judith and sat next to her. "Want a drink?" He held out the bottle. "Be careful."

Judith took it from him. "Thank you." Rick ran his fingers through her hair. He lifted his head, looking across at Negan, who was already watching him. Rick twirled a lock of Judith's hair around his finger. As he stared at Negan, there was a throb behind his eye. He looked away.

"How's your head, Rick?"

"It's better."

"Who were you waiting on?"

Rick scratched his eyebrow. "Uh, my son. He had to stay after for a little bit." He dropped his hand. "Carl Grimes?"

Negan studied Rick, shaking his head. "Haven't heard of him."

"Yeah, I think he did his physical education requirement last year." Rick pried the water bottle from Judith's hands. He took another drink before putting the cap back on. Rick looked down at Judith, then looked at Negan. "You just move here? I haven't seen you around much."

"I moved here with my wife." Rick glanced down at Negan's hands, but they were shoved underneath his armpits. Negan saw, though, and he pulled out his left hand, showing Rick. "She died a few years back. Heart attack."

Rick frowned. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't—"

"—it's cool." Like Rick had, Negan looked down Rick's arms, although a little more slowly, and stared at his hands. "And you?"

"I, I." Rick shook his head. "Sorry."

"You can tell me later," Negan said.

"Later?" Rick felt his phone vibrate. He handed Judith the water bottle, reaching into his pocket for his phone.

"Yeah, I mean, if you'd like."

Rick looked down at the screen, seeing Carl's message that he was sitting out front. He sent back a quick reply, a 'be right there', and slipped his phone back in his pocket. His eyes met Negan's again, and he swallowed, wet his lips. He nodded. "I'd like that."

Negan smiled, a small one. "Cool." He scooted his chair back and opened up a drawer. "Lemme just." He ripped off a corner of notebook paper and picked up a pen. Clicking it a few times, Negan scribbled on the paper. He folded it in half, holding it up. "Here."

"I gotta come over there?" Rick asked, standing up. He walked over and stood by the other side of the desk, holding out his hand.

Negan stood, too, and reached out, tucking the piece of paper into the pocket of Rick's shirt. "Call me. Or text." He smiled.

Rick touched his shirt, feeling the slip of paper. "What, you're flexible?" he asked, teasing.

The smile slid away, and Negan swallowed. He looked down at the desk, at Judith, back at Rick. "Yeah."

"Everything okay?" Rick frowned.

"Oh, yeah. I just remember I gotta, gotta." Negan tapped his knuckles against the desk. "Yeah."

Rick narrowed his eyes and slowly nodded. "Carl's waiting," he said.

Negan didn't look at him, sitting down. He closed the desk drawer, dropping the pen in a nearby coffee cup. "See ya, Rick. Hope your head feels better soon." Negan looked at him, then, lips pressed together. "Take an aspirin."

Judith slid out of her chair and tugged on Rick's hand. "Come on, Daddy. Carl!"

Rick adjusted his grip on the water bottle. "I'll text you. Thanks for… the water."

Negan shrugged, turning in the chair. "Least I could do."

Handing the water bottle back to Judith, Rick scooped her up in his arms. He left the office, carefully shutting the door behind him. As Rick slipped out of the gym, he heard the faint sound of something breaking.


	14. Chapter 14

2:32 PM

You free this evening?

2:32 PM

Sorry this is Rick. Should have said that first.

2:34 PM

Also should have texted you sooner maybe.

2:37 PM

Hey Rick. It's cool. I'm free.

2:38 PM

What'd you have in mind

2:44 PM

My brother has my kids for the day. He's bringing them back at seven.

2:45 PM

So......

2:47 PM

Will you wait I was typing

2:48 PM

Type faster

2:52 PM

Are you done

2:53 PM

:P

2:54 PM

:|

2:59 PM

How about you come over to my place? I can fucking cook.

3:03 PM

What would you make

3:05 PM

If I say something shitty will you turn me down

3:06 PM

Well

3:06 PM

Fuck you Rick

3:07 PM

:)

3:07 PM

I'll come over. Give me your address. What time do you want me over?

3:10 PM

Five.

3:11 PM

See you then

3:12 PM

;)

*

"You're gonna fucking hate making out with me later." Negan twirled his fork in his spaghetti. "Garlic breath."

Rick licked sauce off his thumb. "You got a spare toothbrush?"

Negan laughed. "I'll fucking find one. Just for you, Rick."

It was quiet, save for forks scrapping against plates. Their fingers brushed. Rick absently rubbed at an eyebrow. Negan's smile seemed to cause the persistent pain and also ease it.

"You know, I haven't really had spaghetti for a while. Like  _spaghetti_  spaghetti."

"What the hell does that mean?"

Rick waved his fork. "In the off chance my brother wants to come over, I get gluten-free noodles." He watched Negan. "He has Celiac."

Negan lowered his fork and studied Rick. His eyes were dark, well-rested, cautious. "Tell me about it."

He stared at Negan for a moment, turning his fork over. Rick wet his lips and looked down into his plate, furrowing his brow. "I think he was about twelve. At first, we just thought it was stomach aches."

"Yeah?" Negan tore a piece of garlic bread in half.

"And then it got worse."

*

Negan slammed drawers shut, lifting hands to scratch his head. "Oh, come the fuck on! I know I have another fucking toothbrush."

Rick leaned against the doorway, watching as Negan frantically searched the bathroom. He smiled, felt warm, laughed. "Really doing this?"

"Uh, yeah, Rick." Negan opened up another drawer and let out a laugh, a single dry one. He faced Rick and tossed a toothbrush at him, tongue sticking out. "Told ya."

Rick caught the toothbrush, turning it over. "I never doubted you." He dug his thumb into the back, tearing open the package.

"Damn, if that don't make me feel warm and fuzzy." Negan picked up his toothbrush and took the tube of toothpaste out of the medicine cabinet.

Rick leaned around Negan, tossing the package in the bin. "I gotta be back by seven." He stood next to Negan, switching on the water.

Negan wet his toothbrush and squirted on toothpaste. "Yeah, so let's give you fifteen minutes to drive. It took me about fucking ten minutes to find that goddamn toothbrush. Three minutes to brush our teeth. That'll give us about twenty minutes to fucking make out, and you can get home at a reasonable six-thirty." He put toothpaste on Rick's toothbrush. "How's that sound?"

"Pretty damn good," Rick said and started scrubbing his teeth. Negan kept his eyes on him for a moment, a small smile on his lips, before he looked away, in favor of brushing his teeth and staring at Rick in the mirror. He raised his brows for a moment, quirking one. Rick nudged his hip against Negan's.

They spit, rinsed off their brushes, cupped water in their hands. Then, Negan left Rick in the bathroom. Rick watched him in the mirror, wiping off his mouth with the side of his hand. He turned off the water and stuck his toothbrush in the holder, next to Negan's. His hand hovered there, debating on whether or not he should remove it, but where else would it go?

He went out into the hallway, rubbing at his hand. Rick glanced toward Negan's bedroom, and a part of him wanted to go in there. It pulled him, and Rick would be lying if he said it wasn't incredibly compelling. So, he turned and took the few short steps to the bedroom, standing in the doorway.

The room was ordinary, homey, though there was a degree of stillness and stuffiness that made Rick feel like he was intruding on a scene. The bed was unmade, covers dragging on the floor, and the edge of the sheet was raised, revealing an ugly scorch mark on the mattress.

"Rick," Negan said. Rick looked up at him and turned as Negan moved closer, backing him against the doorframe. Negan stretched out an arm and let it rest above Rick's head, leaning toward him. He watched him, wetting his lips with a small smile. "What are you doing back here?" he asked softly.

His first reaction was to pose the question back to Negan, but Rick bit his tongue. He tipped his head back, giving Negan the same look. "Bit messy, don't you think?" Rick teased. "What happened in there?"

"What's it look like? I sleep in there."

"The mattress," Rick said, voice lowering. "Looks like… something burned. Got caught on fire?"

Negan watched him, eyes scanning Rick's face. He pressed his lips together and looked over, glaring at his bed. "I fucking dropped a candle." He looked back at Rick.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"What kind?"

"Vanilla cupcake."

Rick smiled. "That's nice."

Negan did, too. "I know, right?"

He reached out, absently touching the edge of Negan's shirt. Rick glanced down, just to see how close they were, before looking back up at him. Rick tipped his head to the side. "Why haven't you kissed me yet?" he asked.

Negan swallowed, shrugging. "I dunno," he murmured. Rick felt Negan's fingers curl, the tips touching the top of his head. "Would you believe me if I said I was fucking nervous?" He laughed, a small thing that made Rick's heart race.

"You? Nervous?" Rick laughed, too. "You talk a big game but when it comes down to it? What?" When Negan's smile slowly faded, Rick bit the inside of his cheek. "We met before."

"What?" Negan said, lowering his arm and narrowing his eyes.

"At the store. You got Judith… Frosted Flakes."

Negan visibly relaxed, leaning his head back and nodding. "Yeah, I did." He furrowed his brow. "Why bring that up?"

Rick was a bit disappointed at the distance between them, and he couldn't explain why Negan seemed to retreat. He lifted a hand and scratched his cheek. "Trying to think why you'd be nervous. You seemed confident. You  _are_."

"I don't know what you want me to say, Rick."

"Me either." Rick watched him, wetting his lips as he reached out again, resting his hands on Negan's hips. "How about  _I_  kiss you?"

Negan stepped closer, eyebrow raised as he looked down. Rick moved one of his legs to slide in between Negan's. "I'll let you," Negan said, voice rough. "I'll let you, Rick."

He lifted a hand, cupping the back of Negan's head. Rick stared at him for a moment more before he leaned in, pulling Negan toward him. He wanted to taste those words on Negan's tongue. They were close—Rick could count Negan's eyelashes if he wanted to, but he didn't want to do that now.

Their lips touched. Rick almost hated how easy his mouth opened, how fast he had Negan breathing heavily. Almost. Rick lowered his hand and wrapped his arms around Negan's waist. Sliding, sloppy, Rick felt Negan dig his teeth into his lower lip and pull. Rick grabbed a fistful of his shirt and pressed closer.

_I'll let you, I'll let you, I'll let you._

Rick tasted desperation, but it wasn't quite the same as what he heard. Slowly, Rick pulled back, loosening his grip on Negan's shirt as he looked up at him. His eyes were dark and lips pink. He looked like a ruin.

A familiar pulse came from behind his eye. Rick pressed fingertips to the strip of Negan's back where his shirt hadn't fallen over yet. "I've been getting deja vu lately," he said, the words tumbling out.

Negan held Rick's shoulders, squeezing. He swallowed, furrowing his brow. "Yeah? That's… fucking weird." He laughed. It sounded off, forced.

"Probably nothing," Rick mumbled.

"Don't worry about it, Rick. Things… happen." Negan kissed his forehead.

Rick dragged his nails along Negan's back, letting his hand drop as he reached the curve of his waist. "Yeah." He scratched at an eyebrow, rubbing his palm against his chest. "Thanks for dinner."

Negan stepped back, giving a small smile. "You're welcome." He wet his lips, looking into the bedroom, down the hall. "Should get going."

"Yeah."

"Hey, text me when you get back. So I know you got there all safe and sound."

Rick pushed off from the doorframe, grabbing Negan's fingers and squeezing his knuckles. "I will."

Negan raised his hand and pressed a kiss to his fingertips. "Thank you." He walked backward, pulling Rick along with him.

"It would be really bad if you fell," Rick said.

"You're fucking going with me if I do."

"Comforting. It'll be a nice landing."

Negan quirked a brow, letting go of Rick's hand to open the front door. "Damn, Rick. I'm turned on, and you gotta leave."

Rolling his eyes, Rick stepped outside. "You've got two hands."

"Ouch. That was cold."

"I'll see you, Negan."

"Have a nice night, Rick."

*

6:36 PM

Made it back.

6:39 PM

Everything okay?

6:47 PM

Yeah, you?

6:50 PM

Yeah, Rick. I'm okay.

7:32 PM

See you soon.

7:56 PM

How soon?

8:45 PM

Hey

10:26 PM

This is so not cool Rick

11:13 PM

Goodnight, Negan.

11:17 PM

:|

11:23 PM

:*

11:25 PM

>:*


	15. Chapter 15

It happened slowly. Texting every day. The calls. Weekend dates. Weekend sleepovers. Weeknight sleepovers. Negan driving to school with Carl because they were going to the same place anyway. The annoyed looks. The laughter. Rick loved the laughter.

Negan was hesitant. He was always hesitant. His hands hovering where he wanted to touch but something held him inches away. Rick grabbed his fingers and pulled him in, guiding, telling him exactly where to go.

"It's okay," Rick murmured, nose brushing against Negan's. He kissed him, brief, wet, and laid on unmade covers. "They won't hear. We'll be quiet."

"It's not that, Rick. It's just." Negan shook his head, eyes lowering and looking everywhere but Rick's face.

"What is it, then?" Rick asked, touching the side of his face. Slowly, he turned them over. Rick leaned in, lips to his neck. "Have you been with anyone else since she died?" Rick said, his voice echoing in his head. He shifted, hips against Negan's.

Negan breathed in, hand resting on the back of Rick's neck. "Just you, Rick. There's been no one else." Negan's voice echoed, too, and Rick squeezed his eyes closed. He opened them, and they pulled off their clothes, exchanging kisses.

Rick felt Negan's fingernails rake down his back, his teeth against his neck. His gasps were deep, rough. Rick kept him close, close until—

After, Rick heard static crackling. Negan slept next to him, curled up on his side. His face was buried in the corner of a pillow. Rick wrapped around him and slept, too.

*

In the morning, Rick woke up to a bristly kiss. He scrunched up his face and lifted a hand to wipe it away.

Negan laughed. "Thanks, I appreciate that. Wiping away my affection."

Rick dropped his hand, smiling. "You're welcome."

They stayed in bed for several more minutes, Negan pressing kiss after kiss to Rick's skin, head ducked underneath the covers. Rick hummed and ran his fingers through Negan's hair. "Keep going."

"That would be inadvisable, Rick," said Negan, voice muffled.

Rick huffed, letting his hands become deadweight on Negan's head. He looked off to the side, staring at the clock. "Should get up, then."

Negan licked a strip of skin underneath his belly button. "Yeah." He poked his head out, giving Rick a smile. "Hey."

"Stop that." Rick lifted a hand and pushed the rest of the blanket off his head, sneaking in a small scratch behind Negan's ears. "I can make pancakes."

"Mm." Negan sat up, pressing a kiss to the bridge of his nose. He rolled out of bed and headed to the bathroom, scratching his chest. Before entering, Negan spun around. "You know what?"

Rick sat up, too, running a hand through his hair as he watched Negan. "What?"

He leaned back, settling against the doorframe. "This is nice. Really fucking nice."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, us. These past few months have been nice. Special."

"You get mushy in the mornings."

"Fucking bite me, Rick. I'm trying to tell you that I love you."

Rick raised his brows, resting his hands in his lap. He stared at Negan, as poised and relaxed as he could be leaning against the wall naked. As Rick continued to look, Negan smiled again. He felt a familiar stirring in his gut, a racing in his chest. He didn't remember the last time he felt it, but it must have been with Lori. "You are? All I heard was a vague 'this was nice'."

"You didn't let me fucking finish." Negan pushed off from the wall. "I love you, Rick. Loving you is easy. So fucking easy."

Rick wanted to chuck a pillow at Negan's smug smile, but he refrained. Instead, he settled against the headboard. "I love you, too, Negan. Loving you… is a bit more complicated."

Negan flipped him off and stepped into the bathroom. Rick laughed, tossing the blanket aside. He searched for clothes on the floor, listening to Negan repeatedly flip the bathroom light switch.

"Lightbulb fucking blew out."

Rick tripped stepping into his underwear. "Yeah?" He straightened up, looking into the bathroom. "I can get a bulb." Rick took the couple steps to the light switch on the wall. He flipped it on, but no light came. He did it again and again. There was a chill, nails down his back.

"Rick?"

"That one's out, too." Slowly, he lowered his hand and spun around, marching to the bed.

"Rick."

He tried his lamp. Nothing. Rick scratched his head, the dull thump against his eyes growing. He glanced at the nightstand on Negan's side of the bed, his lamp.

"Rick, it's cool. Where's the bulbs at? I'll fix this shit up."

_I think you— I think you—_

Rick crawled across the bed, covers dragging, and stretched toward the lamp. He pressed his thumb against the switch and heard it click. He tried again. Three times. Six.

_You're full of—_

Rick dropped his hand, roughly swallowing. He bowed his head, rubbing his face. His head throbbed. He thought what? Rick sat up, sliding out of bed. "I gotta, uh."

"Here."

Rick opened his eyes, startled by the beam of light. He stared at Negan, at the light in his hand, and blinked. It was just his phone, flashlight on. Negan smiled, angling it down. "Whoops, almost blinded you, huh?"

There were spots in his eyes, but Rick could see Negan looked nervous, worried. Rick reached out and grabbed the phone, the device clumsily passing between their hands. "I'll check the basement," he said. "Might be, be, a." Rick frowned. He bent over to grab a pair of pants, trying to step in them while still holding the phone.

Negan touched his arms, steadying him. "A fuse?" he offered.

Rick didn't want Negan to touch him now. "Maybe." _I think you—_

He breathed in. Rick turned away and left the room, heading down the hall. He gripped Negan's phone, almost using it as a makeshift stress ball. Rick hurried down the basement steps, skipping the last two.

Tossing the fuse box open, Rick stood there and shined the light into it. He stared, letting out a sigh. Everything was switched off. Rick squeezed the phone.

One by one, Rick turned them back on. One by one, Rick felt his head spin and stomach ache.

"I think you what?" he asked, slamming the fuse box shut.

"Rick. Everything okay in here?" The stairs creaked as Negan walked down. Rick looked at him, pointing the light his way. Negan lifted an arm, shielding his face from the light. "Watch where you point that fucking thing." He laughed.

Rick angled it down. "Kids up yet?"

"I heard Carl. Might have woken Judith from bitch-slapping that fuse box." Negan wet his lips, a hand at his waist, playing with the drawstring on his sweatpants. "So what, a fuse blow?"

"No," Rick said, aiming the phone back in Negan's face. "They were all switched off."

Negan squinted, tipping his head to the side. "Get that out of my fucking face. What is this, a fucking interrogation?" He reached for Rick's hand, and Rick stepped away. Negan huffed. "Why was everything off?"

Rick felt his gut churn. He lowered the phone, the light shining on their feet. "I don't know," Rick said, shaking his head. "I… I think—"

"—think what, Rick?" Negan's voice was low, soft, hesitant. His expression mirrored his tone, and he reached out again, fingers skimming Rick's arm, wanting to grasp but not daring.

Words circled in his mind, his voice, but there was a disconnect. Rick sighed and roughly rubbed at his forehead. He handed Negan his phone. "I think I gotta make some pancakes. And take a couple aspirin."

Negan shut off the flashlight. His fingers wrapped around Rick's wrist. "How about I make the pancakes, and you can sit at the table and look fucking pretty?"

Rick laughed, despite the pain, and even moved closer to Negan. He leaned his head against his shoulder. "I can do that." The hand moved from his wrist to the back of his neck, fingers gently scratching the base of his skull. It was a comforting gesture, but it made Rick shiver. He set a hand on Negan's waist and pushed away, looking at him with narrowed eyes. "Don't do that."

He dropped his hand, touching Rick's fingers. "Sorry," he said, frowning. "I'm sorry you're hurting, Rick. I wish I could do something, but I've never been good at—"

"—just get me a couple fucking Tylenol," he snapped, stepping away. "Stop wishing for shit." Rick grimaced and started up the basement stairs, holding the railing as he moved through the dark.

*

Negan set the plate in front of Rick and stood, a hand on the back of his chair, the other on his hip. Rick looked down at the pancakes, and the blueberry smiley face looked back. Carl and Judith walked around the kitchen, Rick could hear them, but they seemed far away, out of focus. He tipped his head back, staring at Negan. He wasn't out of focus.

"Thank you."

Negan leaned down and gave him a quick kiss. He squeezed his shoulder. "You're welcome." He sat down on the other end of the table, between Carl and Rick. Looking over, he pulled a face, raising his brows at Judith as she tried to put Bonnie next to her plate. "Uh, no, little girl. Bonnie doesn't go on the table."

"Negaaaaaan!"

He reached over her and picked up the rabbit, sitting back down and letting Bonnie rest in his lap. "Judeeeeee. She's gonna get all sticky. Are you gonna clean her up? I don't think so."

Judith laughed, and Negan did, too. Carl shook his head as he ate. Rick steadied the fork in his hands. Everything felt familiar, like home, and he wanted to explain the feeling clouding his head. But how many times have they sat around and had breakfast together?

Rick cut into the smile, and Negan winked at him.


	16. Chapter 16

More and more of Negan's things moved into the house. They were subtle at first, clothes brought the night before to change into for work the morning after, but the amount of clothes soon increased. Negan even brought a pillow, one that he liked to hold while he slept, if he wasn't holding onto Rick.

He stood at the dresser, looking in the drawer and counting the pairs of underwear. Behind him, he heard the door creak. Rick lifted his head and glanced in the mirror. Negan was standing in the room, a hand on the door as he pushed it closed. Rick blinked, furrowing his brow against the pain that pulsated behind his eyes. He turned to look at the clock on the nightstand. It was four-thirty, Negan and Carl back from school. Rick shut the drawer.

"Everything alright, Rick?" Negan asked, walking up next to him. He pulled at the scarf around his neck, letting it unravel before pulling it over his head. Rick turned, facing Negan. He leaned against the dresser, arms over his chest. There were tiny droplets on Negan's leather jacket.

"Is it still snowing?"

"Barely." Negan dropped the scarf on the dresser. He pressed his hands to Rick's face. "My hands cold?"

Rick jolted, lifting his own to grab Negan's. "Yes, shit." He crossed his arms again, shoving Negan's hands under his armpits.

Negan hummed, shuffling closer. "Thank you. I needed that."

He rolled his eyes but kept his hands there. "When was the last time you went home?" Rick asked.

"Is that your way of telling me to get the fuck out?" Negan laughed.

"No, not that. I'm genuinely curious." Rick studied him. "When was the last time you went back to your place? Like actually stayed the night there, because I can't remember."

Negan frowned. He looked off to the side, at the bed. "Well, must have been a few months ago," he said, hesitant. Negan looked back to him. "Is that a problem? I mean, well, fuck, maybe I should have run it by you first."

"It's fine, Negan."

"Here I am, fucking imposing shit on you, and I'm at least trying to fucking remember to include you in decision-making."

"Negan," Rick said, tugging at his arms and pulling Negan back to him. "You're fine. You're not pushing anything on me. This is okay." He gave a smile. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Negan said, narrowing his eyes. "You sure? You're not just fucking saying that because I've already got an ass-load of my stuff here? Listen, Rick, I can move all this shit back if it bothers you." While he talked, his fingers wiggled under Rick's arms.

Rick moved his hands, Negan's staying put, and squeezed his shoulder. "I'm not just saying that, Negan. You can stay. Everything can stay. Okay?"

He was quiet for a moment, staring at Rick, perhaps deciding if he was lying. Negan nodded, then. "Okay." He pulled his hands out from Rick's armpits and slipped off his jacket. "Cool." He smiled, teeth showing. "I'll start dinner, sweet thing." Negan pressed a kiss to his forehead before leaving the room, shoulders shimmying as he rubbed his hands together.

Rick folded Negan's scarf and stuck it in a drawer. He lingered for a moment more, decided against another aspirin, and belatedly followed Negan into the kitchen.

*

"Of course you can come, Jeffrey. That's what the day's for. But uh, I'll give the heads up to Negan. I think he said he was cooking." At the mention of his name, Negan lowered his book and looked over at Rick. Rick caught his eye and turned away.

"Ooh, Negan? So, he'll be there, too? Things are getting pretty serious."

"I guess they are," Rick said, smiling, laughing. He could feel Negan's eyes burn into the back of his neck. "We'll talk more about it later."

"What, is he watching you?"

Rick looked over his shoulder, spotting Negan, once laid back on the couch with  _Gone with the Wind_ , now perched on the edge, the page in the book dogeared. He gave Rick a look, brow raised. "Yeah."

Jeffrey laughed. "Tell him I said hi, and that I hope he's a fucking good cook."

Rick turned to Negan and gave him the same look back, hand on his hip. "Jeff says hi, and he hopes you're a fucking good cook."

Negan grinned, leaning back on the couch, arms behind his head. "I fucking am." Then, he narrowed his eyes. "Tell him to bring—bring a dessert!" he shouted, Rick holding the phone out to him when he noticed the shift in tone.

He held the phone back to his ear. "Did you get that?"

"Yes, dessert, got it. I'm writing it down… now."

"You're full of shit." Rick rubbed his face, his eyes. He walked over, sitting next to Negan on the couch. Negan draped an arm on the back of the couch, behind Rick. He leaned in to press a kiss to his temple.

"This is absolutely a lost cause, but… Yeah, have you talked to Madison any? Oh! Did I tell you I saw Nick at the, the movies?"

Rick frowned. "How'd you know it was Nick? Even I didn't know when I first saw him." Next to him, Negan frowned, too. He pulled his arm back and crossed them over his chest. Rick glanced his way and shifted to lean against him. Shoulders touching, the fabric of their shirts rubbing, Rick closed his eyes to smother a headache.

"Well, I didn't know. After the movie, he was just standing there and I overheard him talking about his mom to the boy he was with—looked like they were on a date or something, probably none of my business. Anyway, heard the other boy say Madison, and I thought I'd take a shot in the dark."

Rick tipped his head back. "Very courageous of you. So, it was Nick?"

"Oh yeah."

"How'd he look?" Rick asked. He furrowed his brow, searching, searching. He felt Negan's lips on the side of his neck. "If I, I remember correctly, he didn't look too good when I saw him."

"Drugs, yeah?"

"I think so. It's still a bit fuzzy." Negan pulled back and wiped away the kiss he left. Rick turned to look at him. Negan avoided his eyes.

"He didn't look like a drug addict. But what do I know. He was smoking, though."

Rick lifted his hand to touch Negan's fingers. He squeezed, feeling the hints of resistance within his hold. Rick didn't let go. "So, you saw Nick, and?"

"I dunno. Like I said, it's a lost cause. Maybe we can't even reach Madison to offer a seat at the table."

Negan pulled his hand out of Rick's hold. He shook his head and settled back, arms over his chest again. Rick watched him out of the corner of his eye. "You're right. Best to leave her be." Rick hung his head, threading fingers through his hair. "I gotta go, Jeff. Getting late."

"Alright, Richie. Is Negan there? Tell him I won't forget the dessert."

"Bye, Jeff." Rick lowered the phone, ending the call, and balanced it on his knee. He continued to twirl a lock of hair around a finger, tugging every time he felt a pain in his head. Rick looked over at Negan, seeming small and closed off. "You think I should invite Madison?" he asked, the words sounding weird on his tongue. Heavy, laced with something. Rick dropped his hand and let the headache continue. "You must have heard Jeffrey over the phone. You're sitting pretty close."

"I heard him."

"What do you think?"

Negan didn't say anything immediately. He didn't even look at Rick. His eyes rested on the floor. "Might be more trouble than it's worth."

"Yeah, but I think it'd be nice if she did—"

"—you said it yourself, Rick. It'd be a lost cause. Her being flaky and mysterious. Not worth it."

Rick ran his hands over his face. He moved his phone next to him on the couch so it wouldn't fall to the floor. "You haven't met her, have you?"

Again, he didn't say anything immediately. Rick pressed his palms to his eyes and rubbed. "I hear you guys talk about her," Negan said.

"But you haven't met her, though." He intended it to be a question, but it came out like a statement, accusatory. Rick looked at Negan, who was already giving him a hard stare back.

"No."

"Okay," Rick said, standing up, phone in hand, feeling like there was a waterfall between his ears. "That's all I wanted to know. Maybe the next holiday." Rick kept his eyes on Negan. "Or the one after that. Or the one after that. Thanksgiving is just the start of a string of holidays."

Negan closed his eyes, giving a small shake of his head. He looked tired, drained, but the anger he held previously was gone. Rick didn't know which was better, or why it mattered. "Okay, Rick," Negan said softly, opening his eyes and looking up at him. "Next time, maybe." He glanced away to pick up his book, then stood. Negan moved past Rick, a hand between his shoulders. Rick followed close behind, shutting off the lights in the living room and checking on Judith and Carl along the way.

In the bedroom, they settled in their respective spots, Rick's arms draped over Negan, Negan's leg around a pillow. They were quiet: soft breaths, the occasional shift, and blanket tug. Rick breathed Negan in and thought he was home.

It wasn't an absurd thought, and one Rick wanted to keep close. His head didn't hurt. Rick moved, shifting closer to Negan.

Negan curled his toes, and Rick heard them pop. He turned over, lying on his back as he looked up at Rick. Scanning his face, Negan smiled. "Hey," he whispered.

"Hey," Rick whispered back, rolling to slide in between Negan's legs. Instinctively, Negan bent his leg, knee pressing into Rick's side.

"Sorry I was fucking testy earlier," Negan murmured. "Shouldn't do that. Not appropriate."

Rick didn't want to talk about that. He knew it would only bring back the pressure he was trying to forget. "It's okay." Rick kissed the side of Negan's face, his neck. He lowered his hand, palming Negan through his sweats, rubbing against his stiffening cock.

"It's—Christ, don't fucking stop." Negan touched the back of Rick's neck and pulled him in, kissing him with an open mouth and an eager tongue. He dragged his hand down to touch Rick's chest, clutching his shirt. "That's good," he murmured.

Rick kissed the corner of his mouth, moving to pull his sweats down. "Yeah? You gonna be good and quiet?"

Negan hummed, nodding. He lifted his hips, lowering a hand to help Rick shove his bottoms aside. "What're you gonna do?"

"I… wanna suck your cock."

"Wanna suck my cock?" Negan touched the back of Rick's head, kissing him once, twice. "Wanna suck my fat cock?" he whispered.

Rick's breath hitched in his throat. He wanted to smother him. "I wanna suck your fat cock. Lemme."

Negan laughed, low, trying his best to keep quiet. "Please, Rick."

He slid down, pushing up Negan's shirt to leave a couple kisses along his stomach. He was warm and still laughing, a soft noise whenever Rick got lower. "Oh shit," Negan breathed out, legs falling open as Rick settled in place, as Rick sucked his fat cock.

Rick kept a hand on Negan's thigh, the other wrapped around the base, holding him steady as he bobbed his head. It was wet and sloppy, and Negan jerked and cursed. He didn't last long, yanking Rick's hand to his mouth as he moaned and came. Rick swallowed it all.

With one hand, Rick pulled Negan's clothes back into place. Negan rubbed his knuckles. He crawled up, meeting Negan's lips in a graceless, open kiss. Rick squeezed his fingers.

Negan laid against the pillows with a lazy smile, wiping his lips with a thumb. "Okay," he said with a nod. "Your turn." He let go of Rick's hand and rolled them over, smoothly falling into the new position. "Want me to?"

Rick was already lifting his hips, hands shoving down pajama bottoms. "Get me off." His heart raced. His stomach flipped. His head sang.

Negan did as he was told. He was good, great, and got Rick off.

*

A bird sat on Rick's chest. Rick stared at its dark eyes, carefully breathing in. The bird cocked its head, and Rick looked along it, down its neck and to the feathers that dragged onto the floor. The bird snapped its beak, leaning in. Rick flinched, hands raising to cover his face.

It pecked at Rick's hands, jabbing and pinching skin. Rick froze as the feathers lifted, expanding until the ends touched the ceiling. There were hundreds of eyes staring at him, vibrant, chilling. The peacock moved past his hands and prodded at his lips, catching his tongue.

He jolted awake, sitting up and tossing the covers back. Rick rubbed his face, even gave his cheek a small smack, before lowering his hands. He turned them over. There were no wounds, no marks, save for the one in the center of his palm. Rick could still feel the sharp digs over and over. He curled his fingers, making fists. Rick moved his tongue around in his mouth. He didn't taste blood.

"Rick, everything okay?" Negan lifted his head, glancing at him, before he rolled to switch on the lamp. He looked back at Rick, squinting.

"Yeah. How's my tongue look?" Rick opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue.

"Your tongue?" Negan dropped his head on the pillow. "It looks fine." He closed his eyes, shifting closer. "Why wouldn't it be?"

Rick looked up at the ceiling, his tongue pressed to the back of his teeth. "I had a weird dream."

"About your tongue?" Negan asked, face to the pillow.

"Yeah."

"Shouldn't suck cock before bed, darling."

Rick stretched over, reaching to switch the lamp off. His elbow dug into Negan's back.

"Ah, fuck you, Rick."

He leaned over, pressing a kiss to Negan's hair. "Yeah? And then what?"

Negan lifted his head, narrowed his eyes, and turned over, yanking the blankets. "Ask me that in a couple hours."

Rick rested his head in between Negan's shoulder blades. He squeezed his eyes closed.

*

The crow was an infrequent thing, but the peacock came almost nightly. It perched on the bedpost, staring at Rick with milky eyes. The peacock, the great gorgeous beast, however, stayed on the bed or his chest, and looked down at him with all of those eyes. It snapped in his face, picking at his lips and tongue.

Rick tried to push it away, protect himself, but it always got under his skin. His hands passed through feathers, only feeling cool air, though the peacock was there. He could  _feel_  it. Rick screamed and thrashed, and his head sang the most piercing song he ever heard, and why wasn't Negan waking up? He realized there was nothing for Negan to hear.

Rick woke, exhausted, rubbing his eyes until he saw stars. He stared at the clock, and it was morning. He looked at the window, and saw the morning sky. Next to him, Negan stirred, stretched, sighed. He rolled to bury his face in Rick's neck. "Good morning, beautiful," he said. "How'd you sleep?" Rick closed his eyes and roughly swallowed. Negan huffed out a laugh. "Shit, you're sweaty. How about I get the shower running for the two of us, huh? A little morning toss and turn." With that, he kissed Rick's jaw and slid out of bed.

Rick steadied his breathing and opened his eyes, watching Negan as he walked to the bathroom, flipping on the light above the sink. Slowly, he sat up in bed, propping his chin with his hand. "It happened again."

Negan pushed aside the shower curtain and looked over at Rick. "Care to clarify?" He turned on the water.

"The… dream."

"The tongue one?"

"Yeah. The tongue one."

Negan turned off the water. He pulled the shower curtain back in place. He walked out of the bathroom, switching off the light. "Wanna talk about it?"

Rick lowered his hand, rubbing his knuckles, and stared as Negan moved closer. "There's… There's a bird."

"Yeah?" Negan sat on the edge of the bed, next to Rick.

He nodded. "It just keeps, keeps fucking getting to me. It feels so real. The plucking, the pinching. It has all these eyes on its feathers. They watch me, Negan. I feel like they, they're judging me? Like they know something, but it's just a fucking bird. A goddamn peacock. It's tormenting me. On purpose."

"Rick, it's just a dream."

"Negan, please, let me—" Rick stopped, breathing in. He closed his eyes, shaking his head. Negan touched his knee, light. Rick glanced at him.

"This really bothers you?" Negan murmured, staring at the bed covers. "How long has this been going on? Since that first time."

"Well, um, I think. I know, for sure, the past couple of nights." Rick looked at the hand on his knee. He wanted to hold onto those fingers, but he resisted. "I keep having fucking migraines. It's killing me. The dreams are making them worse."

Negan rubbed his thumb along the curve of Rick's knee, skimming over warm skin and hair. "I don't know what to tell you, Rick." He looked at him, lips pressed together. Negan shook his head, shrugging. "I don't fucking know. I can get you an aspirin, and, and if it happens again, you can tell me about it."

"Okay," Rick muttered.

"How's your head right now?" Negan asked. His grip tightened on Rick's knee. "Give it to me on a fucking scale or something."

Rick furrowed his brow. "A six?"

"That's… okay."

"It should be a zero."

Negan frowned. He opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. "I wish—fuck, Rick." He lifted his hand and ran fingers through his hair. "I'll do what I can. Now, it's an aspirin, a warm bath, and—" Negan reached out to cup the back of Rick's head. He leaned in, pressing his lips to the center of Rick's forehead. A firm pressure, Rick shut his eyes.

He lingered for a few seconds before slowly pulling away. "I'll start the bath," Negan murmured. "Come when you're ready." He stood and went back to the bathroom, resuming his routine like nothing stopped him. Light, curtain, water.

Rick stayed there, watching, and tried to forget the tugging in his chest. He thought something would happen. He anticipated it, but why? What would have happened? Rick cleared his throat, got out of bed, and walked into the bathroom. His head was still a six.


	17. Chapter 17

On Thanksgiving morning, Rick woke up, rolled out of bed, and ran to the bathroom, where he fell to his knees and heaved into the toilet.

Negan followed almost immediately, hovering by the sink with his arms crossed over his chest. He stared at Rick with a frown and a creased brow, keeping quiet throughout.

Rick rested his forehead against the cool porcelain, closing his eyes and focusing on his breathing. Without looking, he reached up to flush the toilet. His aim was off, but Negan held his wrist and guided him. "Thank you," he muttered.

He crouched next to Rick, pushing sweaty curls off his face. Negan watched him, giving his head a small shake. "Hey," he said softly, offering a smile.

Rick lifted his head, raising a brow. "Hey."

"Good morning."

Rick lowered his head to rest on the toilet seat again, staring at Negan with narrowed eyes.

"Happy Thanksgiving."

"What are you doing?"

"Trying to fucking act like you didn't just sprint in here and drop your guts in the goddamn shitter. Taking your mind off it."

Rick smiled, raising his head and using his knuckles to keep it up. "You don't have to do that." He swallowed, winced, and sighed. Rick pressed a palm to the toilet seat and slowly pushed himself up. Negan stood, too, keeping close to Rick. He let a hand rest on the small of his back.

"How are you feeling?" Negan asked. "Like, is this a bug thing? Do I need to call your brother?"

"No, no. Don't do that." Rick set a hand on Negan's chest, moving him out of the way. He turned on the sink and ducked his head down, rinsing out his mouth.

"What do you want me to do, then?" Negan watched him in the mirror. "It's your head, right?"

Rick wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Yeah, I—" He couldn't put into words how his head felt while he slept, practically erupting as it was picked and prodded. Rick rubbed his forehead, closing his eyes. He hummed, dropping his hand, lightly tapping knuckles against the sink. Rick remembered laughter. It echoed in his ears.

"Can I touch you?" Negan kept his eyes on Rick until he gave his answer, a nod of his head, and stepped closer, wrapping his arms around Rick. Negan leaned his head against Rick's, keeping him in a tight hug. "How's your head now?" he whispered.

"I'm okay. It doesn't hurt as much. I can barely feel it," Rick whispered back.

Negan closed his eyes, nose to Rick's hair. "I'm so sorry, Rick."

A chill ran down his spine, and Negan pulled him closer. Rick touched one of his hands, absently rubbing a finger. "What do you have to be sorry for?"

He was quiet, standing there and holding Rick. After a moment, he dipped his head down and pressed a kiss to his shoulder. "Because it's a fucking holiday, and you won't get to appreciate my cooking skills to the extent of which they deserve."

Rick rolled his eyes and elbowed him. "I can appreciate your damn cooking skills." He smiled, Negan laughing. "I'll be fine. One time thing."

Negan left another kiss on the side of his face before stepping away. "I hope so, darling. I'll check on Judy, see if she's awake. It's not Christmas, but it's pretty damn close."

"No, it isn't."

Negan stuck out his tongue as he left.

Rick lingered by the sink, leaning against it as he looked at his reflection. He looked a bit tired, but that was all. No marks on his forehead to show the pain he felt in his dreams. Still, he lifted a hand to touch his skin and gently dragged his fingernails along, leaving thin scratches.

He heard laughter. Judith giggled, and Negan did, too.

Negan laughed.

Rick lowered his hand, staring at a spot on the sink. There was that familiar pain behind his eye, but it wasn't as strong. Still a nuisance, manageable.

He left the bathroom, counting back the times he had made Negan laugh. He made Negan laugh a lot.

Rick met Carl in the hallway, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Carl yawned. "Hey."

He squeezed his shoulder, looking ahead at Negan and Judith dancing around the kitchen. "Good morning."

Carl moved past him, into the kitchen, and rooted in the cabinets for cereal. Rick stayed by the doorway, chewing on the inside of his cheek. Judith giggled some more, as Negan scooped her up, dropping her in her chair as he went to get her breakfast.

The first time he made Negan laugh, Rick remembered warm air, a breeze.  _You back there, with the sky-blue eyes. Yes, I'm talking to you._

"You want anything to eat?" Negan held up the box of Cheerios, shaking it. "Ricky."

Rick blinked and turned his head, looking at Negan. "Cheerios are fine."

Negan got down two bowls, glancing over at him. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, I just got a little. Lost in my head, I suppose."

"Well, find your way back, and join the family." Negan sat down, pushing the bowl of dry Cheerios toward Rick.

Rick sat, too, and ate a couple of Cheerios, movements exaggerated. He tossed a handful in his mouth, gesturing. Negan rolled his eyes, laughing. "I see you. Good job."

"Thank you."

Negan flicked a soggy Cheerio at his face, to which Judith shrieked with laughter.

*

Rick often dreamed about wrapping his fingers around the peacock's throat. The feathers were smooth, cool to the touch, and when he touched it, it froze. It looked down at Rick with bulging eyes and if it could stare in disbelief, it did. Rick didn't choke it, didn't apply any pressure, just held it at arm's length.

When he woke, there was no pain in his head.

Other times, as he reached out to touch the peacock, it disappeared.

Then, just a couple times, he dreamed about killing Negan. He would be sat on the bed, just like that damned bird, just like he had done countless times before, and stare at Rick with dark eyes and a grimace.

They would start to fight, and Rick always got the upper hand. He sat on Negan's hips, fingers around his throat, and Negan reached up, hands pushing at Rick's face. His touch was warm, and Rick could smell something burning.

It wasn't until after Negan was limp underneath him that Rick touched his face, felt his cheeks, and skin fell off. Warm and gooey, like candle wax, Rick tore and tore at his skin. "You think this is better?" he screamed in Negan's face. "Look what you done to me!"

Those times, Rick woke, clutching Negan. Their legs intertwined, his arms around his middle, Rick tried to catch his breath. After those dreams, the base of his skull hurt, like something was squeezing the back of his head with a clawed hand. He felt angry, after effects seeping into him now, and even if he wouldn't, couldn't, hurt Negan, the passing thought was there.

Rick stared at the back of Negan's head. He was asleep, still snoring. Rick thought of the first time they met, how it was on a sunny day, how he embarrassed himself.

He slowly moved an arm, lifting his hand to touch Negan's chest. Rick pressed his palm flat against his sternum and felt his heartbeat. Could it be possible he knew Negan in two different lifetimes? Or was it something else that gave him sets of memories, similar and not so, that lingered in his mind?

He met Negan at the park. He met Negan at the high school.

He was pulled onto the stage. He banged his head against the stair rail.

And then the time at the store. The Frosted Flakes to Judith, the smile given to him at the end of an aisle.

Rick dragged his hand up, fingers touching the hollow of Negan's throat. What happened when he got on that stage? Or did he? No, he must have. The sun was shining. He was warm. Negan was standing in front of him, but he wasn't really Negan. He had dark and tired eyes behind an awful mask. Negan didn't have tired eyes anymore.

Carefully, carefully, carefully, Rick slid his fingers around Negan's neck, running the pad of his thumb along the skin. Warm skin. Negan wasn't cold and rigid like in his dreams. Rick leaned in and kissed the side of his neck, lingering for a few seconds before pulling back. What happened when he got on that stage? He fell from a tree.

Negan stirred, humming. Rick felt the vibrations against his fingers and held his grip, didn't weaken or strengthen it, just let it be. Negan lifted his own hand, touching Rick's, clutching fingers. "Hey," he muttered, voice rough as he left a kiss on his knuckles. "Nice thing to wake up to."

"Bad dream?" he said. Negan turned on his back, still holding onto Rick's hand. Rick looked down at him, staring into concerned eyes. "I'm asking. Not telling."

Negan swallowed and looked away. "Yeah," he said. "Bad dream." Whether consciously or not, he squeezed Rick's fingers.

"What was it?" Rick asked, gently tugging his hand away from Negan's hold. He slid his hand back to his neck, up, up, until he held the side of Negan's face. "Something tormenting you?" he teased.

"Nothing's tormenting me." Negan frowned, but looked at him. "How long have you been awake?"

Rick studied his face, thumb absently rubbing his cheek. "Just a few minutes," he murmured. "I had a bad dream, too."

Negan watched him, eyes the slightest bit narrowed. He raised his hand, palm against Rick's cheek, fingertips in his hair. "The same thing? The bird?"

"No. You."

A couple seconds passed, and Negan lowered his hand. He wet his lips and started to nod. "Yeah? What, was I a fucking monster?"

Rick stared at Negan, taking in hard lines and apprehension. He tried to seem firm, unfazed, but it was cracking. It was his eyes. Rick shook his head and gave a small shrug. "You were yourself."

Negan laid there, a hand on his chest, the other still shoved under the covers. He looked up at Rick, and his face fell. He closed his eyes, turning his head away, pulling back from Rick's touch. Rick let him. Negan didn't say anything. Rick wanted to know what was going through his head, if it was racing as much as his.

"It's still early," Rick murmured. "We can sleep for a couple more hours." He moved, resting his head on the pillow. "Come on," he added softly.

Negan turned over, back on his side, and pulled the covers closer. Rick held his breath as he reached out, lightly touching Negan's side. "Can I hold you?" Rick asked.

He tipped his chin up, the slightest turn toward Rick. Negan glanced over his shoulder, and Rick caught weary eyes. "Yeah."

Rick slipped his arm the rest of the way around, pressing close to Negan. He heard Negan sigh and felt him relax in his arms. Negan wasn't a monster, only in his dreams. But this, this was reality, and the unthinkable can still happen here. Rick's stomach twisted into knots.

The thoughts, memories, in his head were disconnected. There was something there. Rick ached. What happened when he got on that stage? He fell from a tree. What happened in between?

Rick shut his eyes and lifted his hand, the tips of his fingers gliding over Negan's face. Rick shivered, scooted closer, and covered Negan's eyes, feeling the hints of tears.

Negan's breath hitched, and he pushed Rick's hand away. Sitting up in bed, Negan looked down at Rick, lips pressed together, eyes narrowed. Rick propped his head up with a fist and stared right back. He felt the threat of tears at the corners of his eyes, but he didn't want to cry. Negan looked as if he wanted to say something, giving a small shake of his head. He didn't say anything. He tossed back the covers and lifted a hand to roughly wipe his eyes. Negan got out of bed and walked across the room, out of the room, and closed the door behind him, leaving Rick alone in the dark.

When he got on the stage, he dropped into suffocating darkness, and darkness can be  _scary_.

*

Rick didn't stay in bed for long. He stood next to his side and fixed the covers, stretching to reach Negan's side of the bed. Still warm, pillow creased. Rick breathed in, out.

He walked down the hallway, finding the house still asleep. The lights were off, save for a small one above the kitchen counter. Rick peeked out of the living room window, only moving the edge of the curtain, and saw Negan on the porch. He cradled a cigarette, arms wrapped tightly around himself. Only in a t-shirt and his boxer shorts, Negan shivered, smoke mixing with his breath when he exhaled.

Rick shook his head and fixed the curtain. He glanced at the couch and grabbed the blanket thrown across the back. Quietly, Rick opened up the front door, catching Negan's eyes. They were still wide, still shining, and he looked lost in thought. Rick wanted to throw the blanket at him, in fact that was his intent, but he drove Negan out here, looking pathetic as he sucked down a cigarette.

Did he drive him out, though? Did he?

"Hey," Rick murmured, stepping outside. The cold immediately hit him, biting at his bare legs and arms. Rick closed the door and started to unfold the blanket. "Here. You looked cold." He draped it over Negan's shoulders, Negan crouching and leaning toward him to help.

"Thanks," Negan said, lifting the cigarette back to his lips. Rick glanced down, seeing a lighter between his fingers. It was… comforting.

Rick sniffed. "Yeah, well, don't stay out here too long. Still fucking cold." He turned back to the door.

"Stay." Rick stopped, looking over at Negan, Negan who had his eyes closed, brow furrowed. He shook his head and waved a hand, cigarette slotted between his index and middle finger, his other hand clutching the ends of the blanket. He sighed, opening up his eyes. "Stay," Negan repeated. "Here. With me. I'd like you to." Slowly, he smiled. "I can share the fucking blanket."

It was automatic. Rick stood next to Negan, shoulder-to-shoulder, under the blanket, and held his end. He looked at the grass, how it began to glimmer in the early morning. "If I lose my toes—"

"—I'll warm them up," Negan murmured. Rick glanced his way and caught narrowed eyes and a smirk. He rolled his eyes and nudged him.

"Stop," Rick breathed out, smiling.

Negan flicked off ashes, and they didn't talk.


	18. Chapter 18

Rick crouched, a hand on his knee, the other pressed to the floor to steady himself. He stared into the pen, narrowing his eyes at Bonnie. The white rabbit looked up at him, chewing on some of her food.

He stuck his fingers in between the wires, wiggling them. "Hey, Bonnie. How are you doing?"

With a bit of hesitation, Bonnie made her way over to Rick, and he pet her, smoothing fingers over the fluffy, white fur. Rick pressed his lips together and held onto an ear. "I didn't get you, did I?" he asked. He didn't expect an answer, but it felt good to say it out loud, vocalize the discrepancies in his head. "I didn't get you." Her nose nudged his fingers.

"No, you didn't."

Rick pulled his hand back and turned on his heels. Negan was standing in the doorway, shoulders back, arms dangling—he looked small. He tipped his head to the side, watching Rick.

"What did you say?" Rick stood up, rubbing his palms against his pants. "I don't think I heard you right."

Negan looked away, eyes fixed on a piece of paper taped to Judith's door. It was her name, made with lots of glitter and glue. Negan lifted a thumb to press down on a corner. "You didn't get Bonnie." He dropped his hand and looked at Rick. "I got her," he said, after a sigh.

Rick swallowed, nodding. He stuck his hands in his back pockets, curling and uncurling his fingers. "Uh huh, yeah." He took a step forward, and Negan took a step back, out into the hallway. Rick frowned, stopping. Negan squeezed his eyes shut, raising a hand to push his hair back. He stepped into the room, again. Rick huffed out a laugh. "Are you afraid of me? Why?"

He didn't say anything or even look at Rick. Negan was back to the paper on the door, picking at a raised edge of tape. Rick chewed on the inside of his cheek and glanced between him and the door. "Why does Judith think I got her the damn rabbit, then?"

Negan leaned back for a second, looking toward the living room, where Carl and Judith were playing. He looked back at Rick, pursing his lips for a moment, and then shrugged. "We were all together when we got her. It was a nice day."

For the first time, Rick was angry. He breathed in and out, slow, trying to let it slip away, but no. Nope. Rick took another step forward and grabbed the front of Negan's shirt. He pulled him in and lifted his other hand to hold his neck, fingers digging in. Rick spun them around, wrinkling his nose, shaking his head. "How about, maybe, you tell me the goddamn truth?" he murmured.

Negan looked down at Rick, his eyes wide and arms out to the sides. He wouldn't touch him. "I don't know what you're talking about, Rick."

"I think you know exactly what I'm talking about, Negan," he said, backing him up until they were against Judith's tiny twin-sized bed. "Just, just tell me the truth."

"I am telling you the truth," Negan said, frowning. He swallowed and shook his head. "We were all together. Me, you, Judy." He glanced down at Rick's hand on his throat. "It was a nice day," he murmured.

Rick wanted to throttle him. He stared at a spot on Negan's chin, furrowing his brow. "No, no, it was… it wasn't…"

"It wasn't a nice day?" Negan asked. "That's fair. I get it. Can you let go of my fucking throat?"

He squeezed, just a bit tighter, just to spite him. Rick frowned, dragging his thumb down the hollow of Negan's throat. "It was a nice day," he said slowly, the words heavy on his tongue. "I think. We were, we." He stopped, closing his eyes. Rick hummed, rolling his head on his shoulders. "You—"

"—me." Negan grabbed Rick's hand, grip tight, and yanked it away. Rick stared at him, heart racing. He pulled his hand to his chest and stepped back. Negan gave Rick a look, first hard, angry, and then it shifted to something softer, sad. "I think you're the one that's fucking afraid." He moved around Rick and headed out of Judith's room.

Rick looked at the wall, searching, searching. He thought of hot fingertips to his face, a shock to his skin, but when he glanced down at his hand, there was nothing there. Negan didn't hurt him. He looked to the doorway, walking to catch Negan going into their room. "Why would I be?"

Negan pulled on his jacket, watching Rick, and frowned. "Because I'm a fucking monster?" He zipped his jacket, shoving his hands in his pockets. "What do you want me to say?"

"Tell me the truth," Rick said, waving his hands around. "I don't know what's fucking going on! I feel, I feel, there's something in my fucking head but I can't. Can't get to it."

Negan studied him, still frowning, still looking like the most pitiful thing in the world. "Rick," he started, whispering. He stepped closer, right up to him. "I… I'm sorry. Let me just—"

"—hey, are we going? I'm hungry." Carl leaned against the doorframe, narrowing his eyes at Negan and Rick. "Uh, I can just wait."

"It's okay, kid," Negan said, looking around Rick. "I'll say goodbye to your daddy and be right there. Wait in the car."

Rick listened to Carl walk down the hall, out of the house. He touched the zipper on Negan's jacket. He dragged it down, back up. Negan sighed, tipping his head to the side. He pressed his lips to Rick's temple. "We're gonna get pizza. You want those breadsticks?" he whispered.

"Yeah." Rick closed his eyes and lowered his hand. He leaned his head back, looking up at Negan. "I don't think you're a monster."

Negan smiled. "The look on your face when I touched you back there tells me something different." He lifted a hand to brush a curl back. "It's okay. I get it."

"Do you? Because I don't."

Negan, still holding his smile, walked around Rick again and left. Rick wanted to pull his hair out. Instead, he went into the living room with Judith and sat with her.  _Harry Potter_  was playing on TV.

*

It was like the rest of the house was moving around him, but Rick stayed put, almost becoming one with the couch, sinking into the cushions, arms tightly squeezing a pillow.

They ate dinner. They laughed. They stayed in the living room, sitting together, watching TV, like a family.

Negan put Judith to bed. Carl drifted off to his room. And Rick stayed on the couch.

There was a birthday party at the park. Judith liked going to the park. They would get ice cream after.

His eyes felt dry. Rick blinked, kept them closed for a few seconds. When he opened them, it was dark outside and in the room. He tightened his grip on the pillow and looked next to him, at Negan who had his legs stretched out and arms crossed over his chest. He was watching the television screen, the volume down to a faint whisper, closed captions scrolling along the bottom.

Negan glanced over, then did a double-take. He leaned his head against the back of the couch, settling. "You have a nice little nap?"

Rick let go of the pillow, lifting his hands to rub his face. "What time is it?"

"Like one. There's a rerun of Anderson Cooper. Good-looking man."

He dropped his hands and looked ahead, focusing on the television screen. Rick sighed, nodding. "Yeah."

"How are you feeling?"

"I feel… okay." Rick looked over at Negan, studying him. He had changed into a t-shirt, sweatpants. One leg was rolled to his knee, the other to the middle of his shin. "I'm sorry for kinda yanking you around earlier."

"You were completely justified," Negan murmured, scratching his cheek.

"That still doesn't mean I should have done that."

"Rick," Negan said, brows raised. "It's okay."

He looked up at the ceiling, bringing a leg to his chest. "I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead. I lift my lids and all is born again."

"Rick Grimes, are you quoting Sylvia fucking Plath to me?"

"I think I made you up inside my head."

Negan moved, leaning forward and turning toward Rick. He reached out, taking Rick's hand. Negan pulled him closer, squeezing fingers, and pressed his palm to his chest. "You didn't, Rick. I'm here."

"Somehow that isn't comforting."

"What is, then?" Negan asked, letting Rick's hand go. "What was the last thing that comforted you?"

Rick sat up, setting the pillow aside. He turned to Negan, too, their knees touching. He watched him, chewing on the inside of his cheek. Negan had more gray hairs at his temples. Rick used to count them. "Seeing you with a lighter in your hands."

Negan blinked, looking down. He put his hands together, knotting fingers. "Do you know why that comforted you?"

"No."

"Because I, I didn't use them before." Negan raised his head, meeting Rick's eyes.

It was like someone cracked an egg over Rick's head, chills creeping down his neck, his back. Rick shifted closer, hooking his fingers around Negan's. "How did we meet?"

Negan breathed in, then slowly out. He kept his eyes on Rick's, never wavering. "At the park," he said. "What do you remember?" he added.

"A birthday party, I think. There were kids, but it's a park, so." Rick shook his head, closing his eyes. "We were on a stage. I don't know why. I can't remember."

Negan lifted a hand, touching the back of Rick's head. His fingers threaded through his hair. "It's okay," Negan whispered. "It'll come to you. It always fucking does."

"Why?" Rick stared at Negan's lips.

"Because you're fucking searching for it." Negan rubbed his thumb into Rick's skin. "Can I kiss you?"

Rick began to nod, lifting an arm to wrap around Negan's shoulders. "Yeah."

Negan cradled Rick's head, his other hand sliding up his back. He kissed him, touch warm and still hesitant. Rick held onto Negan's shirt, anchoring him. He tipped his head to the side, pressing closer, and messily dragged his lips across Negan's, savoring the warmth and downright neediness he radiated.

He dug his teeth into Negan's lower lip, and Negan groaned, pulling Rick closer, chests touching. He kissed the corner of his mouth, the crook of his neck. Rick sighed, squeezing his eyes shut, and moved, pressing Negan against the couch and climbing on his hips. He kept one foot on the floor, heel digging in. Rick gripped a shoulder and shifted his hips, nudging his groin against Negan's, which earned another groan.

"Holy hell," Negan breathed out. He wrapped his arms around Rick's waist, squeezing, and stretched up to kiss him. He lifted a leg, draping it over Rick's hip, and turned, arching into him.

Rick gasped into Negan's mouth, fingers still curled around his shoulder. He moved his hips, rubbing against Negan, trying to satisfy this animalistic urge. His jeans were digging into his cock. Rick lowered his hands to unbutton them, still kissing, still moving.

Negan cupped the side of Rick's face, peppering kisses along his lips and jaw. "God-fucking-damn it." He pushed himself up, arm sliding around Rick's waist. "Bedroom, now, please. I gotta fuck you."

He touched Negan's face, thumb dragging across his lips. "Say please again," he muttered.

" _Please_ , Rick."

They stood, and Negan scrambled to find the remote. It was wedged in the cushion. Then, they hurried down the hall, into the bedroom. Negan shut the door, locked it, and gathered Rick in his arms, pressing him against the bed.

Rick leaned into his touch, pulling Negan's shirt over his head. Negan tugged at the buttons on Rick's shirt, shoving it onto the floor. Rick raised his hips to pull off his pants, Negan helping after he tossed his sweats aside.

He laid against the covers once fully undressed, and Negan pressed close, in between Rick's legs. He buried his face in Rick's neck and reached out, digging in the nightstand. Negan lifted his head and looked down at Rick, the tip of his tongue poking through smiling lips. He flicked his thumb, popping open the lubricant.

"Stop smiling," Rick breathed out, shaking his head and smiling, too. "You're embarrassing me."

Negan laughed, dropping the lube. He held Rick's face in his hands, kissing him again and again. "I fucking love you, you idiot," he muttered. "My fucking special man."

It happened again, chills going down his spine, and Rick curled his toes. He rested his head on a pillow and looked up at Negan, furrowing his brow. Rick swallowed, touching the inside of Negan's wrist. "Special," he repeated.

"Yeah," he said. "That's what I've been trying to show you."

Mind racing, stomach knotting up, Rick stared. He pressed his fingertips to Negan's cheek.  _For someone special. From the beginning. A fresh start._  He gave Negan a look and rolled over. "Come on, then. Fuck me."

Negan bit his shoulder and grabbed the lubricant again. Rick lifted his hips and pressed into his touch. "I love you, too," he said. Negan kissed his cheek.

Rick thought he'd be angrier.

*

"Ladies and gentlemen, children of all ages. I need a volunteer from the audience!"

Rick stood on the stage, looking out at an empty park. He turned his head, and saw Negan standing next to him. A cape draped over his shoulders, a mask on his face, he smiled at Rick. "What's my lovely volunteer's name?"

His voice echoed in Rick's ears. He swallowed, wetting his lips. "Rick. And you are?"

"The Fabulous Mr. Peacock. But I'd like you to call me Negan." He faced Rick, lifting his hands to tug at the strings on his cape. It dropped, and he pulled off his mask, smashing it in his hand.

Rick turned to him, too. "Negan," he said, like it was the first time he had spoken it. "Hi."

Negan grinned. "Hi." He looked down at the mask in his hand, turning it over. "You know what I'm gonna fucking do with this?"

He nodded. "Yes."

Flames curled around Negan's fingers, consuming the mask in a matter of seconds. He closed his fist, the fire gone, and raised his hand to blow away the ashes. Rick felt some on his cheeks. "You remembered."

"Yes," he repeated.

"What else?"

Rick stepped forward, lips pressed together. He lifted his hand and covered Negan's eyes, palm flat against his features.

Negan let out a raspy breath. "My final trick."

"You were a shitty magician." Rick shoved his other hand to Negan's chest, pushing him with all he had. Negan fell back, off the stage, and held out his arms, reaching for Rick. He stood on the edge, watching Negan's panicked face as the ground swallowed him up.

Then, Rick opened his eyes. He looked up at the ceiling, rubbing his face. He turned over in bed, pulling the blanket closer, and stared at Negan, who slept soundly next to him. An arm was stuffed under a pillow, the other curled to his chest.

It didn't last long, Negan waking after a few minutes of Rick watching. He stared back, eyes still slightly narrowed with sleep, and stretched out his legs, popping his toes. Negan sighed, pulling his arm out from the pillow. He moved it under him, closing his eyes. "If you keep looking at me like that, you should buy me fucking dinner."

"Okay."

Negan looked at him, and Rick smiled. Negan did, too. He reached out, grabbing one of Rick's hands, threading their fingers together. "Your head okay?"

"Yeah. It's… been okay."

"Good," Negan said, watching him for a few seconds. He swallowed, closing his eyes. "Go back to fucking sleep. Wake me up with your cute-ass, weird-ass staring in a couple more hours."

Rick rubbed his thumb across the back of Negan's hand, and thought of flames licking the skin. "Don't let go of my hand, and I will."

Without opening his eyes, Negan squeezed his hand.

*

Rick smoothed his fingers along Judith's hair, catching flyaways and tucking them behind her ear. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to her forehead. She continued to sleep. Rick fixed the blankets around her before slipping out of the room.

He tapped on Carl's door, poking his head inside. "We're heading out now. Judy's asleep."

Carl, stretched out on the bed with an Xbox controller in hand, looked over at Rick. "Okay. Be careful."

"We will."

"You know what to get me."

"Uh, you mean Santa knows what to get you," Negan said, coming up behind Rick. He gave Carl a look. Carl gave him one back, and they stared, a contest to see who would look away first.

It was Carl. "Yeah. Santa."

Negan softly laughed and turned away, his hand finding Rick's waist as he passed. A gentle, reassuring touch. Rick looked down, then over, watching Negan as he walked down the hall. Confidence slipped away as he got further, arms hanging at his sides, fingers flexing: a common sight nowadays.

Rick looked back to Carl, pointing. "Call me if anything happens."

Carl pointed back.

He went to the living room, catching Negan lean to examine himself in the mirror. He rubbed his face, hands down his cheeks, scratching the skin. Negan straightened up and glanced over. "Ready?"

"Yeah, I'll drive."

Negan picked up the keys from the tray and tossed them at Rick. "Cool."

Rick stretched, balancing on a foot, and caught them. He pressed them into his palm and walked outside, Negan close behind.

*

Rick didn't say anything, and neither did Negan. Did Negan know that Rick knew? Rick hadn't changed his behavior the past week, or he tried not to. But Negan must have known. Rick's head didn't hurt.

But he still said nothing. He wanted Negan to. Negan had to say it.

Rick tightened his grip on the steering wheel. He glanced at Negan, who was lounged back in the passenger seat, a foot propped on the dashboard. Fingers pressed to his lips, Negan read the back of a game case they had bought Carl. After, he made a sound in his throat, a "huh" sound, and put it back in the plastic bag. He turned, stashing it in the back seat with the others. "Might have to play that one with the kid."

Rick looked at Negan again. In the same position, he stared out the window, then. Rick wanted to touch him, grab his fingers, feel his thighs, scratch holes into his scalp. Instead, Rick blinked a couple times. "You're pretty quiet," he said.

"Yeah, I dunno what to say."

"That's a first."

Negan snorted, crossing his arms over his chest, shifting in his seat. "Uh huh."

Rick chewed on the inside of his cheek. He glanced at Negan, then turned down a road.

"You're pretty fucking quiet, too."

He shook his head. "I dunno what to say either." Rick slowed down, turning into a parking lot. "Got any cash on you?"

Negan patted his pockets, sticking his hand down the right one. "Yeah." He frowned. "Why are we at the park?"

Rick switched off the engine and looked ahead. He breathed in. "I don't want to go home yet. Figured we could walk around a bit, look at the lights. Maybe get some hot chocolate if there's anyone selling."

"Seriously?" Negan watched him, a faint smile on his face. "Sure, that sounds fucking nice. Lemme hide this shit under the seat so no Nosy Nellies peek in and see all the cool stuff we got."

Rick cracked a smile, too. "I'll help."

Christmas presents stashed, Rick and Negan got out of the car and headed into the park. Rick zipped up his coat and stuffed his hands in his pockets. Negan stayed next to him, close, and mirrored him.

There were a few people in the park, but it was almost ten o'clock, and some were heading out. Luckily, though, the concession stand was still open, the lights overhead flickering. Rick nudged Negan and jerked his head toward the stand. Negan glanced at Rick and walked ahead of him, going up to the counter without a word.

Rick waited by a tree, looking at the closest light display, ice skaters. They flicked on and off, showing couples, a family, a kid falling. The next display over was a large candle, poinsettias at the base. Some of the lights at the bottom were out.

"Hey." Negan stood next to him, holding out a cup. "Here. It's nice and warm."

"Thank you." Rick took the cup, appreciating the warmth around his fingers. He held it under his nose, smelling, basking.

Negan watched him, leaning to stuff cash in his pocket, change clanging together. He held his own cup up, hiding his smile behind it. Rick narrowed his eyes and took a drink. He felt warm, but he didn't think it was from the hot chocolate.

"We walking?" Negan asked, stepping back. Rick nodded, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. Turning on his heel, Negan set off, following the path.

"Some of these look new."

"Just got better fucking bulbs, probably. These have been around for years."

"I always liked the ice castle."

"Shit, yeah?" Negan stopped, looking ahead at the flimsy castle display. He poked his tongue against his cheek, nodding. "Me too." Negan glanced down at Rick, took a long drink from his cup, and started walking toward it.

"What are you doing?"

"Walking through it. What's it fucking look like? It's cool. I've seen kids do it."

Rick tapped his thumb against the side of his cup, sighed, and followed. "Don't knock into anything. It might fall down."

Negan gave Rick a look over his shoulder. He walked inside, across the grass, and out the other side. He turned around and outstretched his arms. "Ta-fucking-da."

"Shut up." Rick rolled his eyes and walked through it, too, stopping in the doorway. He stared at the framing, the lights wrapped around and embedded. "I think a couple kids vandalized this, few years back." Rick looked ahead at Negan, who was quiet, who stared at Rick with his lips pressed together. Rick frowned. "It was you, wasn't it?"

"Fuck you, Rick," Negan breathed out, shaking his head. He tipped his head back, downing the rest of his drink, and walked over, tossing the cup in the bin before approaching Rick. He raised an arm, carefully picking at something in the display. Rick watched him, brow furrowed, and then—

"Oh, okay," Rick said, staring at the bundle of mistletoe in Negan's hand. "How… How many of those are around the park?"

Negan rolled it between his fingers. "Dunno." He looked at Rick. "Lucky for us, huh."

Rick swallowed, shrugging, half-nodding. "Yeah, lucky."

Negan continued rolling it, more of an absent gesture now as he studied Rick's face. He didn't move, not even to kiss him. Rick stared into his cup. He tipped it side to side, stirring the contents, then took a drink. Once he lowered it, Negan reached over and grabbed the cup out of Rick's hand. He squeezed it and turned away, going toward the trash bin.

He stood there, hand still raised, fingers curled. Rick breathed in, lowered his hand, stuffing it into his pocket, and went back to the path, picking up where they had left off. He left the ice castle behind, and from the corner of his eye, he saw Negan walking, following him.

Rick stopped and looked ahead, staring at the trees and the picnic tables, at the stage in the distance. He rubbed his face and glanced over his shoulder, Negan standing some feet away. He still held the mistletoe, pinched between his fingers. Rick turned to face him. "Do you have something to say, Negan?" he asked, frowning. "Anything? Anything at all?"

Negan shook his head, looking down at the mistletoe. "I don't think so."

"Okay," he breathed out. "That's fine." Rick ran his hand through his hair and turned back around. He tapped his fingers against his lips, closing his eyes. Rick hummed, furrowed his brow, and shook his head, too. He opened his eyes and turned around again, hands on his hips, looking at Negan. "Okay. Come here. Closer."

"Why?" Negan asked.

"Just come here, Negan." He held out his hand, palm up. "Please." Rick beckoned, crooking fingers.

Negan studied him and slowly walked over, keeping his eyes narrowed and fixed on Rick's face. He stood in front of him, glanced down at his still-outstretched hand, and placed the mistletoe in the center of his palm, covering the faint scar.

Rick curled his fingers around the plant and tossed it aside. "You're an asshole."

Stuffing his hands into his pockets, Negan straightened his back and frowned. "I'm an asshole," he repeated, slowly nodding.

"No, you're not… You're not supposed to agree with me." Rick crossed his arms over his chest.

Negan shrugged, digging the toe of his boot into the grass. "What do you want me to do, Rick?" he asked. "Tell me, and I'll do it."

Rick looked at Negan, the small frown on his lips. He dropped his eyes to rest on a spot on his neck, where his scarf didn't cover. Rick swallowed, furrowing his brow. "Show me a magic trick." He lifted his head, eyes back up at Negan.

At first, Negan didn't do anything. He continued to stare at Rick, his expression the same. Then, something in his eyes changed. There was a small twitch, a narrow, and Rick saw the threat of tears. Negan breathed in sharply and looked ahead, chewing on his lip. He began to shake his head, glanced down at Rick, and ahead again. "Were you going to fucking tell me?" he asked softly.

Rick narrowed his eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said firmly. "And I told you to show me a magic trick."

Negan slid his eyes closed, sighing. "You know exactly what I'm talking about," he muttered.

"No."

"Damn it, Rick." Negan looked down at him, eyes wide. He lifted his hands out of his pockets, rubbing his face, smoothing his hair back. "Fucking shit. I can't—"

"—Negan, show me a goddamn trick."

Negan gave a frustrated noise, a short, muffled sound behind closed lips. He dropped his hands and looked at Rick. "Okay. Fine. Close your fucking eyes. Don't open them until I say so."

Rick slid his hands into his pockets, stood a little straighter, and closed his eyes. His heart was racing, pounding against his chest. He listened for anything, a hint of what was going to happen, and Rick only heard some movement, fabric rustling, and then the soft clang of change.

"Okay. You can open them." Rick did and stared at Negan, raising his brows. Everything looked the same, and he glanced down to see Negan's hands behind his back. "Nope. Eyes on me," Negan said, voice low, rough, strained. He cleared his throat and took a step forward when Rick looked back at him. Negan lifted a hand to Rick's ear, stepped back, and held up a quarter. There was a beat of silence, so Negan waved his hand. "Ta da," he deadpanned.

Rick fixed his eyes on the quarter. He wet his lips and looked at Negan. "You got that from your pocket."

Negan still held out the coin, matching Rick's gaze. "You didn't tell me to show you a good trick." He flicked the quarter into the air, caught it, and put it back into his pocket.

"But you could have. I didn't have to tell you to."

Negan rubbed his face, his eyes, and looked down at Rick. "How long have you known?" he asked quietly.

Rick looked down at the ground, curling and uncurling fingers. "Known what?"

"Fuck, Rick, just fucking tell me—"

"—no, you fucking tell me what you did. To me, Carl, Judith. Say it."

Negan was quiet again, giving Rick the same look, those eyes, and he sniffed. "I. I fucking. Goddamn." He closed his eyes, brows furrowed, head tipping side to side. "I did some thinking on my own and—"

"—eyes on me."

At once, Negan did. He looked down at Rick, nose wrinkled. "You can be a real bitch, Rick."

He shook his head, lips pressed together in a faint smile. "I think I'm owed this."

Negan nodded, looking down for a moment to wring his hands. He breathed in, out, and nodded again. "Okay." Negan looked at Rick. "I didn't talk to you. I fucking made up my mind without including you. I thought I made a mistake when I didn't erase your fucking mind after we met, and I wanted to fix things. I felt like we were fucking sneaking around. I thought… I thought that, maybe, if we fucking started over, things would be okay. Better."

Rick crossed his arms over his chest, head tilted to the side as he listened and watched. "So, what did you do?"

Negan's gaze faltered, and he looked away. "I, I, one night, I went into Judy's room to read to her, like I usually do."

He stepped forward, raising a hand to press fingertips to Negan's cheek. Rick turned his face toward him, thumb dragging down his skin. "Look at me," he whispered.

Negan started to shake his head, leaning into Rick's touch. "I fucking hate this part," he muttered.

"So, you regret it? Doing it to our—my kids?"

He batted away Rick's hand, frowning. "Don't fucking say it like that. Trying to get under my fucking skin."

Rick crossed his arms over his chest and frowned, too. "Sorry. I'm just…"

"Pissed. I get it." Negan nodded, lifting a hand to fix his scarf, pulling it a little closer.

He looked down at the ground. "Do you remember what you read to her?"

"Look at  _me_ , Rick. Of course, I fucking remember." Negan sighed, dropping his hand, giving a half-hearted shrug. " _Sleeping Beauty_. She, she liked that one."

"What happened after you read to her?" Rick asked.

Negan grimaced, looked away, then back at Rick before he could say anything. "I already told you," he breathed out. "I pushed her hair back, away from her face and I. I did it. Covered those innocent little eyes and made her forget me."

Rick roughly swallowed. "And Carl?"

"That kid was already fast asleep. Didn't take much. I reckon he didn't even know I was fucking there."

"What about me?"

Negan pressed his lips together and stared at Rick. He smiled, after a moment, and laughed, a dry, short laugh, forced. "I thought I was going to hurt you."

"Like you… hurt her."

"You don't want me to fucking tell you  _that_  story?"

"Negan."

"Okay, okay. Sorry." Negan dragged his hands down his face, rubbing his eyes for a few seconds before looking down at Rick. "Yeah," he murmured. "Like Lucille. I didn't want you to end up like her. That was the last fucking thing in the whole goddamn world I wanted to happen."

Rick touched Negan's arms, pulling him closer. "Why didn't you just talk to me? We could have worked something out."

"I already thought about it. I made up my fucking mind. This was the best solution." Negan studied him, the corner of his mouth curling into a smirk. "I knew if I talked to you, you'd just talk me out of it."

Rick squeezed his arms. "Because there were other ways—"

"—you wanted me to live with it. Half-hiding. I told you. I fucking hated that." Negan shook his head. "People start over in relationships all the time."

Rick frowned. "Not like this." He rubbed his palms into Negan's jacket, fingers curling against the material, holding. Negan slowly reached out, touching Rick's waist. His fingers walked, skimmed, gripped. Rick watched him. "And I remembered because?"

Negan sighed. "The only thing I can think of is that you were trying to find some fucking inconsistencies. Looking into every little detail. The kids? They don't do that. They'll be okay." Softer, he added, "Lucille never remembered. Not like you."

"So, ever since you left," Rick started, brow furrowed. "You haven't used… anything? Your magic, nothing?"

"I haven't," Negan said, then frowned. "I haven't on purpose," he corrected. "I need to get my fucking orgasms under control."

Rick laughed. It was immediate, like he had been holding it in. He bowed his head, leaning into Negan. Negan watched him and began to laugh, too. "It was just that one time," Rick said, straightening up to look at Negan. "Was it that good?"

Negan narrowed his eyes, blush creeping up on his cheeks, making him match his scarf. "Shut the fuck up, Rick." He laughed again. "It was pretty fucking good."

They stood there, laughing together. Rick's cheeks hurt. He felt warm. He pulled back from Negan to rub his face, cold fingers scrubbing his eyes. When he lowered his hands, Rick met Negan's stare. Negan, head tipped back, wet his lips. "You've known for a while, huh?"

Rick started to shake his head. "I only  _knew_ -knew for maybe a week. But I always had a hunch. Like you said, I was looking for things." He smiled. "You kissed differently."

"I did?"

"You got all timid. Slow." Rick shrugged. "Like you were too scared to kiss me, and you wanted to do more. But you had to wait."

Negan moved closer, raising a brow. "You've put some fucking thought into that, Rick." He lifted a hand to touch his lips, as if trying to see if they were physically different, too.

"It wasn't a bad thing," Rick said. "I kinda liked it."

Dropping his hand, Negan looked at him. "I'm glad you enjoyed my shy-as-fuck kisses."

"It wasn't that, idiot." Rick rolled his eyes. "You were careful, attentive." He quirked a brow. "Very attentive."

Negan raised his own brow, reaching to touch Rick's shoulder, his arm. He squeezed and then slid his hands up to cup Rick's face. He looked down at Rick, softly smiling. After a moment of staring, Negan sighed. "Are things better?" he muttered. "That's all I tried to do."

Rick lifted his hands, touching Negan's wrists. He held him there, nodding. "Yes," he said. "I think they are. Things are the same except—"

"—I know," Negan said.

"Are things better for you?" Rick asked, tipping his head to the side, leaning into Negan's palm. "I remember, well, that stuff used to wear you down."

"You're right, Rick," Negan murmured. "I can't remember the last time I felt like that. Must have been months ago."

Rick glanced down, and Negan dragged his hand against his cheek, skin scraping against stubble. He held onto Negan's arm. "But you still can—"

"—nope, Rick. Look at me. I can't. I  _won't_. Simple as that."

"Why did it take this for you to do that?" Rick frowned. "Before, you tried and tried but you couldn't. Shit happened.  _You_  wouldn't stop."

"I don't have a good answer, Rick. I think I might have needed to go through this. That's bullshit, right?" Negan tilted his head to the side, moving Rick's along with him. He studied him, giving a small smile. "I missed you."

Rick shook his head. "Stop."

Negan leaned in, lips to Rick's forehead. "I did, Rick. You're, you're so—"

"—special?" Rick glanced up at Negan. "Where have I heard that before? Over and over and over—"

Negan pulled Rick into a hug, cradling the back of his head. "Yeah, yeah. I get it. I'm a fucking idiot."

Rick laughed, face to the crook of Negan's neck. "My fucking idiot," he whispered, and Negan held him a little tighter.

"I'm sorry. Do you forgive me?" Negan whispered back, head against Rick's.

Rick pressed his lips to the corner of Negan's mouth. "Yes," he breathed out.

Negan touched the side of Rick's neck, looking down at him. "Can I kiss you?" he asked. "I can do it how you like it."

"No," Rick said, resting his hand on the small of Negan's back. "Do it like you."

Negan leaned down, in, kissing Rick. He was warm, soft, and then rough, needy. Rick smiled against his lips and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. He pressed closer, feeling teeth on his lower lip. Negan slipped his fingers into Rick's hair, tightening his grip on the curls. He smiled, too, when he pulled away. Rick felt a little breathless, lightheaded, and kissed Negan again. Negan let him. He didn't want to stop.

Something cold touched Rick's cheek. He pulled back, first looking at Negan, then around. It had begun to snow.

Rick tipped his head back to look up at the night sky, laughing. "Look at that!"

Negan, brow furrowed, looked up, too. He crossed his arms over his chest. "It's fucking snowing." He breathed out, shaking his head. "Damn, it's really fucking cold." Negan grinned and nudged Rick. "We should go."

Rick began to walk backward, hands stuffed into his pockets. He hummed, narrowing his eyes. "I didn't think it was supposed to snow."

Immediately, Negan narrowed his eyes, too. "No. It's—this, no. I didn't fucking do this."

"Alright," Rick said, turning around.

"The weather can fucking change." Negan walked faster, catching up to Rick. "Even if I were going to do, like any of that fucking shit, which I  _wouldn't_ , because it'd be ridiculously  _pointless_ , I wouldn't jump to the weather. That's intense shit."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Plus, I haven't done this in months. I would start small. If I would do that. Which, again, I wouldn't."

Rick glanced up at Negan. They smiled. Rick looked back ahead. "Humor me. What would you do?"

Negan sighed, loud, dramatic. He draped an arm over Rick's shoulders, shaking his head. "Shit, Rick. I dunno." He shrugged. "Make a quarter come out of your ear." Negan patted Rick's cheek before walking ahead of him. He spun around, grinning, tongue in between his teeth.

Rick stopped walking. He pressed his lips together, smiling, and started walking again, giving Negan a look. "Why would you do something as pointless as that?"

"I don't fucking know, Rick. Why would I?" Negan pursed his lips, cocking his head to the side. "Let me drive." He lifted a hand, wiggling his fingers. "When we get home, you can fuck me."

Rick walked past Negan, raising a brow. "How about I drive," he started, heading out of the park and toward their car, Negan close behind. "You sit there and think, really think, about the pointless thing you could have but supposedly didn't do." Rick dug his keys out of his pocket and stared at Negan. "And when we get home, I'll still fuck you."

Negan slowly nodded, looking at him and then ahead. "Fair enough."

Unlocking the doors, they ducked into the car. Rick stuck the keys into the ignition and looked over at Negan, who was pulling on his seat belt. "Negan," he said, waiting for their eyes to meet. "I'll make you beg." He pulled on his seat belt, too, starting up the car.

Negan leaned back, brows raised. "Yeah? You're gonna make me fucking beg?"

Rick turned on the windshield wipers. He nodded, smiling, too. "Uh huh. Teach you not to do  _pointless_  things."

Negan's face dropped. "Oh, Rick, don't."

Rick shook his head, continuing to smile. "You _really_ were a shitty magician."

"That's hurtful, Rick. Apologize."

He glanced over, watching a smile grow on Negan's face. "No."


End file.
